


Only Drunks and Children Tell the Truth

by haloud, MayGlenn



Series: To Raise A Child [3]
Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: (those are separate), Adopted Sibling Relationship, Alex's Mom's Side of the Family, Bullying, Canon-Typical Homophobia, Canon-Typical Psychic Brain Damage, Canon-Typical Racism, Coming Out, Emotional Constipation, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Enemies to Friends, F/F, F/M, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, Garage Band, Gen, Grandma Patty (mentioned), Happy Childhood AU: The Teen Years, High School, Homecoming Dance, Immigration & Emigration, Light Angst, M/M, Navajo Nation, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Parent-Child Relationship, Past Alex Manes/Forrest Long, Past Child Abuse, Past Maria DeLuca/Michael Guerin, Pining, Post-Break Up, Prophetic Visions, Protective Siblings, Recreational Drug Use, Schoolyard fights, Slow Burn, Threat of Police Brutality, Tripp Manes (mentioned), Underage Drinking, high school nonsense
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-24
Updated: 2020-12-30
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:54:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 25
Words: 97,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26076751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/haloud/pseuds/haloud, https://archiveofourown.org/users/MayGlenn/pseuds/MayGlenn
Summary: Staring down their senior year of high school, Michael, Alex, Maria, Liz, and Kyle have big decisions to make about the future, and about each other. Life after high school isn’t any easier for Rosa, either, who faces questions of her own. But with each other, and with people around them they can rely on…Everything’s going to turn out okay.
Relationships: Alex Manes & Kyle Valenti, Isobel Evans/Kyle Valenti, Jim Valenti/Michelle Valenti, Maria DeLuca & Alex Manes, Maria DeLuca & Michael Guerin, Maria DeLuca/Rosa Ortecho, Max Evans/Liz Ortecho, Michael Guerin & Rosa Ortecho, Michael Guerin/Alex Manes
Series: To Raise A Child [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1751017
Comments: 380
Kudos: 161





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story takes place in 2007/8 (senior year).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning for kyle still being in with the Wrong Crowd (aka shitty bullies being shitty bullies incl. sexism and mention of self-harm)

Michael stomped up the stairs to home and let the door slam behind him. He knocked twice, loudly, on Rosa and Liz’s door but didn’t wait for an answer before jerking it open, storming inside, and shutting off the music.

“Dude, Rosa, I’ve asked you like _fifty_ times to fill my truck up after you’re done with it!”

“I’m not gonna give you an entire tank of gas if I just took it down to the store to get groceries for the whole house!” Rosa said, already mad. She was already mad at Michael most of the time these days, and had been all summer. “Maybe if you weren’t always driving over to Maria’s house you’d have more gas!” 

Michael’s face went bright, angry red. A little voice in his head that sounded like Max told him she didn’t know what happened yesterday—because he hadn’t told her—but because it sounded so much like Max it was easy to tune out.

“I’m not talking about the groceries, I’m talking about the three times this month you’ve taken it instead of your own damn car all the way to fucking Albuquerque for the museums and shit!”

“One of those was for looking at colleges, damn it!” Rosa said, not adding that Santa Fe was an extra hour away. She rummaged through her purse and threw a roll of tips at him. “There! Fine! God, you’re such a little brat! You and your fucking full rides and you need _my_ money!” 

Michael’s mouth fell open, swooping emotion yanking the breath out of him and leaving his stomach watery. 

“I-Is that why you’ve been avoiding me all summer? The scholarship? I—”

“It might as well be everything!” Rosa said. “You’ve got the car, you’ve got the college, you’ve got the girl…” 

Rosa froze, avoiding looking at Michael. She hadn’t exactly meant to say that. 

“You got your money, get out of my room.”

Tears jumped to Michael’s eyes, but he didn’t want Rosa to see him cry, not now, so he wheeled around and snapped, “Well Maria and I broke up, so there’s one reason less to hate me, sorry to disappoint.” 

And he threw her money down on her dresser and fled back to his room, slamming the door.

He wanted to scream, he wanted to hide his truck keys to get back at her, he wanted to hit something, he wanted to—

He wanted to call Maria but he probably wasn’t allowed to anymore, or it would be weird. He wanted to call Alex, too, but maybe things would be weird with Alex now, too, and maybe they'd both side with Rosa, anyway. 

He wanted to talk to his mom, but he had to work and couldn’t just take off into the desert to sit in front of her pod and talk to himself and hope that somehow she could hear him.

He lost to the lump in his throat and wiped furiously at his eyes as the tears started to fall.

There was a knock at his door, but like he had, Rosa just pushed through without waiting for him to answer. “Hey, man. Shit, I’m sorry. You didn’t tell me you guys broke up. That was pretty fucking lamesauce of me.” 

Michael wiped his nose and hunched his shoulders. “It only happened yesterday. It’s not, it wasn’t...she says we’re better as friends and she’s not _wrong,_ but it’s—” his voice cracked. “It’s all my fault. I’m such an asshole.”

“Hey, bro, come here,” Rosa said, sitting on his bed and putting an arm around him. He was pretty huge now, but he was still her baby brother. “Come on, look, I’m sorry. I only got mad ‘cause I’m stupid jealous of you, alright? ‘Cause you’re amazing. Do I need to go beat her up for breaking your heart?” 

That might make _dating_ Maria more difficult, but Rosa was prepared to do it. Only _she_ was allowed to hurt her little siblings. 

Michael leaned into his sister, even though he didn’t deserve it. “No, it really is my fault. I...I like her so much, but I think I’m b-broken or something. There’s someone I’ve had this stupid crush on for like ever and I know they just see me as a friend so I’ve tried and _tried_ to move on, but I just...but I should have tried harder, then maybe I would’ve been good enough to—” He cut himself off. That wasn’t fair to Maria either. 

“Hey,” Rosa said, shaking him. “You’re ‘good enough to.’ You’re brilliant, handsome, I want to pluck out your hair and eyes and...you know what, it’d be nice if I could just steal your whole body so I could date chicks without it being a _whole thing_ …any chance body-swapping is an alien ability you have?” 

“Oh please, you know you’re beautiful,” Michael said with a fond roll of his eyes. He held up his mannish mechanics hands. “Imagine trying to do art with these. You’re perfect as you are. Even if as you are you daydream about stealing my body parts.”

Rosa laughed. “Yeah, man, your hands freak me out.” 

With another squeeze, she let Michael go. “Seriously, you guys broke up? I mean, you seemed so good together! That’s why I didn’t say anything.” 

“Yeah, I guess it was just time. We _were_ good together. We are. But the longer we were together the more it kind of started to look like we wanted different kinds of relationships long term, and Maria didn’t want things to be awkward at school, so…” He swiped at another irritating wave of tears. “We’re still gonna be friends, though. Hopefully. I just hope Alex and Liz don’t hate me now or whatever.”

Rosa hummed, still rubbing his back. “I just hope it doesn’t make band practice weird. What _did_ you want out of the relationship? Or what do you want?” She paused then and said carefully, “You...still feel that strongly about Alex? I thought, since you started dating Maria…”

“I’m already crying, I don’t want to talk about that,” he said with a wet laugh. “I think Max mindwarped me as revenge for all the years of mocking him about Liz, Rosa, it turns out I’m as bad as him and I think it’s terminal. I want like...class ring, letter jacket type shit. I’m the worst, it’s so goddamn embarrassing.”

Rosa laughed softly. “It’s your senior year, man. Last chance for all that.”

This was making Rosa feel a little better: If Michael really wasn’t totally broken up about Maria she could...you know, ask her straight, still-underage best friend if they could...yeah, never mind. “You know, you’re right, Maria wouldn’t be caught dead in one of your jackets. I can’t believe I didn’t see the warning signs…” 

“Oh ha ha, very funny. We can’t all be as fashionable as a DeLuca.”

And he was including Alex in that. The eyeliner had stuck around, and he’d only been dressing bolder and bolder since joining their family. Once Alex got home from visiting his mother, Michael and Maria hadn’t hung out at Maria’s house much over the summer, for all Michael didn’t think either of the DeLuca siblings knew how Michael really felt about Alex. God, he hoped not. 

* * *

“I can’t believe you broke up with Michael! You’re going to break up the band!” Alex cried. 

“Your priorities are in just stunning, perfect order,” Maria said, yanking the pint of Ben & Jerrys back from him. It was a very important teen ritual, the crying and eating of ice cream, even though she hadn’t really shed a tear yet. And she wasn't going to. This was better for everyone. “Anyway, be happy. Maybe this is your chance! It still counts if it’s on the rebound.”

“Ugh, I don’t want your sloppy seconds,” Alex said, more because it felt like the right thing to say than he actually meant it. Then he deflated. “I’m being a dick, aren’t I?” 

He was used to checking in with Maria to make sure he was doing Emotions right. It was convenient that he had been adopted into a family of possibly-alien psychics and empaths. But this time, he didn’t really need to wait for her to answer. “I am. I’m sorry. Come here.” 

“Just a little bit.” Her smile was quick and false, but her affection was real when she reached out and squeezed his arm.

Alex grabbed a spoon for himself and led Maria into the living room, pulling her into a hug on the couch. “I’m sorry. Do I need to beat him up for you?” 

“No! No. No one is the bad guy here. Or maybe it’s me. I don’t know. I _feel_ like the asshole, but maybe that’s normal.” She jabbed his spoon aside to get at a chunk of cookie dough. “I _like_ him, you know? He makes me feel good. But like I don’t even know what I want to _do_ with my life yet, and I feel like having this...perfect small-town boyfriend—even if he is a space alien—just makes that choice harder. Is that too mercenary? I don’t even _know,_ I don’t know anything, that’s why I had to break up with him.”

And that was true, but it was also hard to be with a guy who was definitely completely in love with someone else. 

“As long as you’re mercenary enough to not have done this for me,” Alex told her firmly, stabbing the ice cream with a spoon. “You know me and Michael are hopeless. We’re good as friends. I’m not messing that up.” 

Maria glared at him pointedly. 

“Er. Not that your guys’ friendship will be messed up by this! Obviously.” 

“I hope it won’t be,” she said glumly. Then she shrugged. “Also, what if we’re related? I couldn’t get over that, so we never got past like, third base.”

“DeLuca, please, you don’t have to--”

“I’m not telling you for _you_ , I’m telling you for _me_ , Alex,” Maria said sternly. 

They both fell quiet. 

Maria sighed. “How _is_ your friendship with Michael? Is this gonna make things weird?"

"Weirder than me hooking up with Forrest and then running away to Gallup? Maria, relax."

"What if it makes things weird with Liz and Rosa?”

“No, no. We’re all too tight. It’s gonna be okay.” Alex squeezed her, and stole some more ice cream. “Michael’s just...a really good guy. You could probably ask him out again after you figure out whether or not you’re related on the alien side and what you do want in a relationship, and he’d say yes. You know, if you figure it out before he goes off to college and leaves all of us.” 

Alex had a few tempting offers to study computer programming at a few universities, but he really wanted to study music, and was still deciding whether he’d be happy with music as a hobby instead of a career before he said yes to any of them. Michael and Liz were both Regent’s scholars with their good grades—Michael at UNM and Liz at UC Boulder. So really, this was the last year the gang would all be together for the foreseeable future...but Alex tried not to think about that. 

“We’re all leaving each other.” Maria’s next scoop of ice cream was more like a stab, then she sighed. “No, no, that’s too depressing. He’s moving to Albuquerque, not Mars. He’s got a cell phone. Even if both of us fuck around too much and end up with a gap year, we could still have band practice on weekends, even.”

“Yeah, absolutely,” Alex said. His friends were important to him, and the band was _really_ important to him. Alex + the Aliens had landed several gigs at quinceañeras and even one wedding, so they were _going places_. And if Alex thought playing music on its own was therapeutic, it was nothing compared to making music with the people he loved most in the world. It felt almost...cosmic. So, yes, his priorities were “messed up,” but the band was important to him, and he was not going to allow it to be Fleetwood Macked. 

“You know, he’s too sappy for you, anyway. We need to find you someone more no-nonsense,” Alex said. 

“He is _ridiculously_ sappy,” Maria giggled. Maybe she was getting over this too fast? But already it seemed easy to just look back on the good in their relationship and move forward. “Those puppy eyes? Just too much. How does anyone stay mad at him?”

"I'm not saying you weren't good for _him_ ," Alex said. "Forgive me for thinking no man in Roswell is good enough for the DeLuca women. You need to get out of this town, Maria. It's too small for you."

“And go where? I don’t love Roswell, but I don’t want to leave my friends, you know? I don’t want to go too far. The people here suck, but I can’t imagine living anywhere but the desert. Ugh, I don’t know. Maybe I’ll just go to UNM after all. Anyway,” she jabbed him with her elbow, “This town is too small for you, too!”

"Yeah, well. Maybe I'll still hack us both into Juilliard or that performing arts school in Texas," Alex threatened. "But for now… You wanna go see a movie or go shopping or start a _Lord of the Rings_ marathon?"

“So rude, trying to be supportive and pull me out of my wallowing, who gave you the right.” She threw his arms off and padded into the kitchen to put the ice cream away, then back out into the living room, grabbing Alex by his hands and yanking him up. He stumbled only a little on his bad leg. 

“Let’s go loiter at the mall like the disaffected teens we are, hm? We’re running out of time, after all.”

“Please don’t be the ‘this is our last first day of high school!’ ‘this is our last Homecoming Game we never go to!’ friend,” Alex teased. “We’re _not_ going to be people who peaked in high school like Kyle Valenti.” 

“Please, we all know Kyle Valenti peaked at age six when he gave Liz his brand new crayon box with the sharpener. It’s been all downhill for him ever since.”

Alex had grabbed a glass of water to hydrate before going out into the still-summer day, but this ended up being in vain as he immediately spit it out all over the kitchen floor. “Oh my God, DeLuca, that came out my nose!”

She was too busy cackling to answer (or help clean up).

* * *

After cleaning up the water, they piled in the truck Mimi DeLuca had bought for Maria and Alex to share. On the way to the mall, they snagged Liz from a babysitting job she’d picked up to start saving for her own car, and they put on one of their driving CD’s, a mix of Alanis Morisette and Brendon Urie, belting out the music for all it was only a few minutes’ drive to Roswell’s mall.

The mall was packed like it only could be on the last weekend before school started, but the three of them still managed to snag a table in the food court, conveniently placed behind a potted plant so they could people-watch and talk shit without anyone seeing them.

“Don’t tell my dad, but there is nothing, nothing like a Wendy’s frosty. You just can’t recreate it without the crack they use,” Liz said, digging into a huge chocolate frosty all by herself. 

Alex and Maria had already had ice cream, but that didn’t mean they didn’t still try to steal bites from hers while they shared some green chile cheese fries. Liz shrieked and attacked them with her spoon, but she practically had to hold the cup with both of her tiny hands if she tried to keep it away from them. 

“Alex Manes, if you corrupt my frosty with your french fries our friendship is OVER!” Liz lectured, turning her whole body away from Alex’s assault. 

“Okay, don’t look now, but the douche brigade is rolling out in full force,” Maria said.

Over by the Sbarro, Kyle Valenti and two of his douche jock friends loitered as one of them tried to chat up the cashier, who swiftly went into the back and didn’t come back out. 

“Pendejos,” Liz muttered.

“I dunno, it’s really more of a douche fireteam, or a douche squad,” Alex said, trying not to look up at Kyle because not making eye contact with him was generally just easier. “There’s too few of them to constitute a full brigade.” 

“Of course, you gotta get technical,” Liz groaned, digging back in, eating quickly now in case they got interrupted.

“‘Don’t get technical,’ says the scientist,” Alex said, definitely dipping a fry in her frosty. 

Liz glared at him and yanked it away, but all three of them tensed when Kyle and his goons ambled closer and Kyle noticed Liz, straightened up, and puffed out his chest. He turned his head and muttered something to one of his friends.

“Ugh,” Maria muttered again. “Come on, guys, let’s just go. How much you wanna bet Kyle’s too much of a square to follow us into Hot Topic.”

“That’s a sucker’s bet,” Alex said, tossing their food in the trash and hastily clearing them out, _without_ looking like he was running: he wasn’t, he just didn’t want a scene. He hadn’t been working out as much as Kyle had recently, probably, but you never forgot how to throw a punch and he didn’t want to embarrass Kyle in front of his friends.

* * *

“Dude, go after her,” Trevor said, slapping Kyle on the back.

Kyle grinned. He would, he was just gonna watch her leave a little bit first. Liz had always been beautiful, but lately….damn.

“He can talk to her any time but you only get so many chances to watch a girl like that leave,” Randy said, and the two of them high-fived, laughing like they were goddamn comedians.

The smile oozed off Kyle’s face slowly and with a coldness like an egg cracked over his head. It was his thought put to voice, but in the voicing of it it sounded...worse. Wrong? But more so, like, it wasn’t like he thought he was being some kind of knight in shining armor by thinking about Liz Ortecho’s _assets_ 23 hours a day, but…

Out loud there was an ugliness to it that was very hard to ignore.

“Dude,” he said, just one syllable on edge, shoving his hands into his pockets.

“Don’t stress him out, man,” the third says, “you know he chokes in the clutch.” 

“All Valenti’s been doing lately is choking the clutch, if ya know what I mean. Go talk to her, man! Or you worried she’s too smart for you?” 

“Smart chicks, man, too much work. One hit and away is the only way.” 

“Can you guys just shut up?" Kyle tried. “That’s gross.” 

"Look, they’re going into fucking Hot Topic, how long til Manes is done cutting his wrists or whatever?”

“Dude!”

Kyle may not have been _friends_ with Alex, shying away from that particular social suicide even if he blamed himself for that a little, but it was hard to keep hating the guy who took a bullet for your dad. Not that anyone could know about that.

“What the fuck, man, you puss out on talking to Ortecho _and_ you’re sticking up for Manes now?”

“Manes is looking more like a girl all the time, maybe Valenti’s just confused—”

“I said _shut the fuck up!”_ Kyle barked, fists clenching.

"Look, I'm sorry," Randy said, squeezing Kyle shoulder and keeping a straight face as he said, "if you're gay, too, you can tell us."

Trevor laughed. 

Oh, how Kyle wanted to punch that smug laughter off of Trevor’s face, but starting a fight in the middle of a mall was a good way to get himself suspended from the team, and that would be unbearable. Of course, Randy and Trevor telling the whole locker room he was gay would probably be unbearable too.

...Just like things had probably been unbearable for Alex for years, largely because of him. Jesus fuck, what a time for a concience.

“Can we just get out of here?” He snapped. “I’m hungry and I’m not eating at a fucking food court right before training starts.”

“Oh, screw that! This is my last junk food of the year and I’m going to enjoy it.” 

“Don’t be such a bitch, Valenti.” 

“You’re gonna be the bitch when you’re puking on the sidelines after one workout, but go ahead, enjoy your junk.”

Muttering to each other, Trevor and Randy went off to get their food, and Kyle slumped in a chair, arms folded. God, did he sound like that all the time? Was he _like that_ all the time?

What the fuck was he supposed to do now?


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter contains bullying, two instances of a homophobic slur, and mild violence/threats of violence

“Hey, mom?” Kyle asked, as he was helping his mother make a huge pot of enchilada sauce that would feed them for the week. His dad was outside mowing the lawn, so he probably had a good half hour of uninterrupted Mom Time. 

Choosing which parent to have certain conversations with was tricky for Kyle Valenti, who, A: had no siblings to ask for a second opinion, and B: had parents who in many ways seemed to value traditional gender roles while defying them in their everyday lives. His dad, who loved hunting and cooking outdoors and ogling beautiful women, worked nurturing traumatized children all day, while his mom, who liked expensive perfume and haircuts and shopping, dealt with criminals and carried a gun and people took her very seriously. 

“Why does it seem like you have to be mean for people to think you’re tough?” 

“Oh, you heard I gave Randy Alonso a speeding ticket today? That’s not being mean, son, that’s the law.” 

“No—” Kyle began, making a face. Randy definitely deserved it, after yesterday. “No, I wasn’t—he didn’t say anything to me. I didn’t mean _you_ you, I meant, like anybody. It just seems like people try to act tough but they’re really just mean.”

“That’s true,” she said, resting her hip on the counter and giving Kyle one of those looks that went right through him. “You see it a lot on the force. Bullies who just want a free pass. Many of them the same people who were bullies with a free pass in high school, on the football team...so why do you ask?”

Kyle had already gotten so many free passes.

"Oh, the guys were being jerks about Liz. I mean, we're not friends or anything, but I didn't like how they talked about her." He shrugged, unsure of what more to say.

“How did it make you feel?” she prompted. “That line between toughness and meanness. What side of it do you think you’re on? What side do you want to be on?”

“I don’t want to be a douche, mom! I mean, a tool. Or whatever. But I pushed back even a little and they just dug in. It wasn’t even being mean so much as it was talking about Liz Ortecho like she’s just a hot piece of ass, not a person,” Kyle said, in a heated rush, and then he pursed his lips. “But you deal with like, _real_ sexism all the time, I bet.”

Kyle’s mom reached out and jabbed him in the shoulder. “Do you think Liz Ortecho would find it mean? There’s no such thing as sexism that is ‘real’ or ‘fake’—it’s all the same. Pushing back against that sort of thing is good, but you need to think harder. What if it was Rosa that your buddies talked about next time, eh?”

“First of all, ew,” Kyle said, and then swallowed carefully, trying not to meet his mom’s eyes. He wasn’t sure whether being a mom made her a scarier sheriff or being a sheriff made her a scarier mom, but either way, he didn’t like being on the receiving end of her being scary. He thought a fair bit before answering. His dad and Mr. Ortecho seemed pretty cool with each other, but his mom wasn’t quite ready to get all touchy-feely with the Ortechos, though she was perfectly polite. “Well. Well I would think that’s bad, obviously. But that would be like favoritism, wouldn’t it? Just because she’s my—because we’re related?” 

“My _point_ is that all women deserve the same respect you’d want for your sister. And that eventually you will have to decide which is more important to you—the respect of some high school dipshits who will never recognize that there _is_ a difference between strength and domination, or the respect of people who have to navigate that difference every day of their lives.”

“Mom!” Kyle cried out, a little aghast but laughing. “That’s no language for a _lady…_ ”

He watched the play of emotions over her face before he held up his hands in surrender. “Joking! That was a joke, mom!” 

Kyle tried hugging her even as she rolled her eyes and grudgingly hugged him back. 

"Okay, I know. I should do better. I just needed someone to kick my ass about it.” He turned away, chagrined, and then stopped in the doorway. “What do I do about the guys on the team? How do I make them stop?” 

“I wish there was an easy answer. But the truth is that there are more of them than there are of you, and in trying to stop them, you may find yourself their next target. All you can do is try. Stand up against injustice—and, importantly, be an example. Maybe they won’t want to demean women so much if you point out how boring they’re being and have better things to say, yeah? I admit it’s a long shot, but…” She winked at him.

“Don’t get me wrong, talking about girls is _not_ boring,” Kyle said almost defensively, and then felt uncomfortable about that, and decided this would be better as a Dad Talk. Or...maybe it would just encourage him. Ugh, never mind. “I don’t care if they give me crap, I guess. They’re just dumb.”

“Okay, okay.” Michelle laughed. “Tough mom talk time can be over now. Go wash up before dinner, mijo.”

Kyle smiled at his mom and turned to go, only to look back when she said his name again. “Kyle?”

“I’m proud of you,” she said.

“Don’t be, I haven’t done anything worth it yet,” Kyle groaned, dragging his feet dramatically. 

When Jim came in sweating and smelling of freshly cut grass, Michelle was in such a good mood she deigned to give him a kiss. 

“What were you and Kyle talking about?” 

“Nothing.” Michelle pursed her lips wickedly. “Trying to make sure he doesn’t turn out too much like his father.” 

“ _Ouch_. Gonna need some ice for that one.” 

Michelle laughed and kissed him again and prodded him to the sink to wash up instead, as Kyle wandered back in and began setting the table for dinner.

* * *

Alex loved his friends. He loved Maria, and Michael, and Liz, but while the rest of them took their free periods in the afternoon so they could leave school early, Alex took his in the middle of the morning because it was the only time he could get some goddamned peace and quiet sometimes. 

And he used it to write music. Alex + the Aliens were going to move beyond metal/alternative covers of pop songs at some point, and he was going to be ready. The poetry sometimes got stuck, because, shocker, Alex still struggled with articulating feelings, but the melodies and harmonies always flowed. He’d probably ask Maria to write words to them. Asking Forrest Long probably wasn’t a good idea since they had broken up—had they ever really been ‘together’?—though it had been an amicable parting. Alex still wouldn’t feel right about using Forrest’s poetry for his band. 

He was so absorbed in trying to force the words to come that he genuinely didn’t notice the pack of meatheads approaching. Apparently the football team had their free period now, too. Great.

“Hey, isn’t that Alex kid a fag?”

“Yeah, I saw him making out with Wyatt’s homo cousin!” 

Alex kept his head down. Five to one odds were too much even for him, something he’d learned, repeatedly, the hard way. Fuckers.

He was startled into looking up, though, by Kyle’s voice, loud and clear and harsh.

“For fuck’s sake, do you guys _ever_ get tired of the _same_ fucking insults and the _same_ fucking targets? Everyone fucking knows Alex is gay, he’s the fucking president of the GSA, and I’m fucking tired of having to sit through fucking gay pride assemblies every time you dumbasses get bored and go after him!”

“Glad to know they’re working,” Alex said dryly (though ‘pride assemblies’ was something of a stretch, someone at New Roswell High was clearly _trying_ ), setting aside his guitar and looking at the troop of gorillas as impassively as he could manage. He wasn’t going to start anything, but he also wasn’t going to lie down and take anything either, and he honestly would rather they mess with him than with his guitar. He could heal, the guitar wouldn’t. 

He locked eyes with Kyle. Kyle, predictably, couldn’t hold his gaze. 

“We’re done,” Kyle said loudly, turning around like he expected the football goons to follow him.

“What’s the matter, Valenti?” Trevor drawled, an ugly sneer on his handsome face. “Moved on from Ortecho? Quitting football next to play for the other team?”

“Yeah, you caught me,” Kyle said back, just as nastily, “When your girlfriend made out with me at Hank’s pool party, it was because she couldn’t resist my unattainable homosexual aura.”

Alex did a double-take, and then a triple-take at Kyle. Was he...trying?...to _not_ be a dick? Alex almost smiled at him in amazement before he remembered himself. 

“It’s alright, Valenti. Who else would me and all the other queers take bets on switching teams if Trevor didn’t show such obvious, consistent interest in me?” 

_Oops. So much for not escalating_ , Alex thought as the jocks _oohed_ at their ringleader. Alex glanced around for an authority figure, but they were pretty much alone in the empty cafeteria. Well, that was probably better for all of them. 

Alex stood up with a sigh, like, this might as well happen today. “Seriously, guys, get another angle. You’re lucky I’m not giving you competition, according to your girlfriends.” 

“You little—” Trevor lunged at Alex.

All the _oohs_ and jeers and laughing cut to dead silence in a dead instant as Kyle stepped into Trevor’s path, shoving him back before he could lay a hand on Alex.

In the ringing silence, Kyle’s heartbeat thundered in his skull. He felt vaguely outside of his body. Possessed. It would be easy to laugh. Turn on Alex and throw the first punch himself. Alex wouldn’t even be surprised. Or betrayed. Kyle let that ship sail a long time ago. 

“Kyle?” Alex found himself asking. 

But Kyle already knew firsthand how fucking brave Alex Manes was. Why should any less be expected of him? Why should he expect any less of himself?

“Boys,” Trevor said softly. “How do we feel about covering guys who play for the other team on the field Friday night?”

Hank shoved his hands in his pockets. “Feels like it’s not our job.”

Kyle gulped. 

“Gotta love a straight guy who’d lose an entire football game just to make sure everyone knows where he stands on the Kinsey scale,” Alex said. “That must be quite a conundrum for you.” 

“Alright, that’s it, Manes,” Trevor said, stretching up to his full height and bumping his chest against Alex’s. 

“Careful,” Alex said, not budging an inch. “This is the most male contact I’ve had in weeks, I might forget myself.” He licked his lips. 

“Ugh!” Trevor said, actually jumping back from him. “You’re sick, Manes! Sick! Valenti, you’re as good as one of him!” 

Kyle definitely looked uncomfortable, but he stood his ground, shoulders straight, chin tilted up. 

“Manes isn’t so bad,” he stated firmly. “At least he knows a thing or two about loyalty. What’s sick is turning on a guy just because he won’t let you wail on someone you outnumber five to one. You’re a coward, Trevor.”

“And you’re gonna be looking for your teeth on the 40, Valenti,” Trevor told him, punctuating the threat with a finger jab before turning away, the other boys winging after him like a flock of vultures. Hank and Randy took the time to laugh at Alex like they were actual evil henchmen, and didn’t give Kyle the time of day, which seemed to be worse. 

Alex blinked, wondering how he managed to escape that, and coming up...Kyle? Like, he hadn’t been _worried_ , necessarily, but...

“Uh,” he said into the silence. “Did I take a blow to the head and this is a hallucination?” 

He turned to Kyle. “Did _you_ take a blow to the head?” 

Kyle let out a flat, dull laugh and hunched his shoulders. “Nah, my head trauma is pencilled in for about two minutes after kickoff next weekend.” He still wouldn’t look at Alex. “Anyway. That was about three years past due, so. Uh. Have a good rest of your day, I guess?” 

He turned and headed for the door like a man walking to the gallows—which wasn’t just melodramatic, since the odds were good that out there someone was waiting in the hall to jump him.

“Kyle—” Alex said. 

He wasn’t sure what he wanted to say when Kyle turned around. _Thanks_ was what he felt, even if it would basically just be giving him a cookie for basic human decency. But it didn’t feel like that to Alex at that moment. It felt like Kyle had really turned around, really changed, and that he’d gone above and beyond to protect _him_. “Better late than never, man. Thanks.” 

A flicker of a smile touched Kyle’s face then, and he held up his hand in a wave. “Don’t mention it. See you around, Manes.”

Then he was gone, and the only sound in the cafeteria was the background noises of the lunch ladies working in the kitchen and the knock of the swinging door.

“Huh,” Alex said, and picked up his guitar again.

* * *

"Yeah, we went to the mall and had a good time, so that I wasn't sad," Maria said, reaching out to touch Michael's hair and stopping herself short. Just because they could still be friends after dating, didn't mean she could still be quite as friendly. She shoulder-checked him instead, which because of their height difference meant he caught the brunt of it in the ribs. 

They were in the music room, just them and a few other musically-promising seniors spending their own time on their own instruments while the teacher had something like a prep period without freshmen bothering her. Michael was messing around with his bass next to Maria, who sat at the piano trying to run through her scales and vocal warm ups.

"Oh, that's nice, DeLuca," Michael complained, rubbing his side, "I immediately got into a fight with Rosa. So _I_ had a shitty breakup. Thanks for bringing up such a painful subject."

But Michael was grinning, joking, and if they had still been dating, Maria might have kissed that smug smile off his face. As it was, she just nudged him again, more gently. She didn't need to tell him about the growing feelings she'd had that they both might be happier with other people, that she saw her future self with—someone else. 

Sometimes she _saw_ that quite literally, when her brain provided strange little details of the future for her. 

"Don't lie to me! Rosa said she shared her stash with you and you guys hung out in her creepy cave!"

“Okay, yeah, but that was _after_ we fought and I bared my soul to her, okay?” Michael laughed, dodging another punch to his arm. “When is Alex going to get here?” He lamented. “I need backup!”

“Alex will back _me_ up. He’s _my_ brother and you broke my heart, remember,” Maria told him with a wry little grin that said she was definitely only teasing. She patted the piano bench. “Put that thing away and do warmups with me.” 

Michael set his bass down reverently and threw his long legs over the piano bench. He didn’t play the piano, not really, but Maria and Alex had him well-trained for scales at least for warm-ups. But no sooner had he laid his fingers on the keys than a burst of loud laughter blasted from the hallway, making him hit a sour note.

“Damn it, doesn’t anyone respect—uhh, Maria?”

Maria had gone stiff beside him, gaze fixed into the middle distance, mouth parted slightly but face frozen, even when he shook her arm.

“Maria!”

Maria was somewhere else, seeing somewhere else, triggered by the sound of harsh laughter. She didn’t know when or where or how, and she knew the details might not be right, but she knew what she was seeing was true, for some version of the truth. The laughing turned into the baying of hounds. Kyle Valenti was being eaten alive by dogs wearing football jerseys, and all she knew was she needed to help him. 

“Stop!” she shouted, and came back to reality with a jerk, Michael drawing back from her in fear. 

“Sorry! I—”

“Oh, shit, no, Michael, I’m sorry, I thought…” Maria rubbed her temple, head suddenly aching with a splitting headache. “Sorry, you’re fine. Uh. Ocular migraine, I think?”

“Fuck, do you need the nurse’s office? I can take you, o-or I’ll call Liz or Alex to take you if you don’t want me…”

“ _Michael_ , don’t be dumb.” 

“Wait, what’s wrong?”

Alex was there, eyebrow raised at Michael, kind of drawn up like he thought Michael was any kind of threat to her, and Michael kind of shrunk away even more, slipping off the piano bench for Alex to take his place. 

"No, it's okay," Maria said, reaching for Michael's arm, but grabbing Alex's instead. And that somehow made the vision _stronger_. Alex's wristwatch reading 3:10. Those rosemary bushes by the portables. Kyle needing her help.

Maria groaned, bending over double, and then the visions and the pain were over, and she was fine. 

"Whoo. Okay. I'm fine. I'm fine now. Headache. Like a brain freeze. All better now."

Michael and Alex exchanged a nervous look but let it go. Alex took over at the piano for Maria’s warmups, while Michael took a seat on the floor beside the bench—until Maria put her hand on his shoulder and smiled at him, a small and private smile, and he felt some knot inside his chest unravel. Things didn’t have to change, not _that_ much. He scooted over a couple inches and leaned his back against Maria’s legs as he pulled Alex’s guitar into his lap and started tuning it, like Alex couldn’t do that himself.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Alex asked softly. “I’ve got some Tylenol in my backpack, if your headache doesn’t go away.”

“Yeah, maybe…” Maria said, and then coughed. “Um, have either of you seen, uh, Kyle lately?” 

When they looked at her, curious, she shrugged noncommittally. It wasn’t that they didn’t know about her psychic abilities, but this was new, and different, and a scary version of those powers that she didn’t want to talk about with anyone other than her mom or Rosa. 

“Not since third period,” Alex replied, brow wrinkling just a little. “Actually, I wanted to tell you guys about…” Alex looked between Michael and Maria. “He...I really think he’s changed. The goons were giving me a hard time and he did—like a one-eighty. Strangest thing.”

“Kyle got into an argument with his football cronies?” Maria asked sharply.

“Huh, who knew he had it in him,” Michael snorted.

Maria took a deep breath and just went for it. “Guys, I think Kyle is in trouble. We have to do something!”

“Okay, but we have class. _He_ has class,” Alex said. “I mean, those guys looked mad, but not like they’d jump him in AP Lit or anything. After school, we can keep an eye out for him.” 

Maria remembered the watch she’d seen in her vision registering at 3:10. Yeah, after school was fine. She nodded. “I want to make sure he’s okay.”

“And Alex wants to make sure we practice,” Michael teased. “No way we’re getting out of that.” 

Alex didn’t dignify that with a response, just sniffed and went back to scales. Smiling, Maria looped her arm through his and joined in.

* * *

Music was a panacea, but Maria’s anxiety didn’t stay at bay for long. Every room in the school had a ticking clock, like they were following her, ticking down to 3:10 and whatever Kyle was facing. At lunch, in between classes, all through her free period, she was grabbing friends and calling in favors and collecting everyone together to help out—to be behind the gym before Kyle was, before the football team was, to back him up. Just in case.

She even called Rosa from her cell phone to ask her to just...be there. “Your dumb half-brother is in trouble.” 

“Oh my God, what did Michael do, he’s got scholarships…” 

“Not Michael, your _half_ -brother. Kyle.” 

“Oh. Good for him.” 

“No, Rosa...it’s serious. He stood up for Alex today. And I have a... _feeling_.” 

Rosa sighed loudly. “Okay, I’ll be there.” 

“Thank you, Rosa,” Maria almost-whispered. 

If the faint hush of static could be intimate, it was.

“Whatever you need, Maria,” Rosa said, and hung up the phone.

When the last bell rang, Maria headed for the back of the gym, head held high, like...well, not like a general, Alex would be their general, but seeing the future made her a damn good tactician. 

Alex was already there and waiting, one scuffed black sneaker tapping a rhythm against the white cinder-brick wall. Surrounding him were all their friends, Michael and Liz, Max and Isobel, and Rosa was the last one to arrive.

“You really got the whole Scooby gang together, huh?” Rosa asked. 

“I don’t know, guys, the jocks looked pretty serious. I know Kyle parks over here, so if he comes this way and they try anything…” Alex said, already making the mission his own and mapping out the battlefield. Maria was relieved.She and Liz gravitated to Rosa. 

“Okay, but we’re not seriously going to fight the football team, are we?” Isobel Evans asked, throwing her hands up in a question. “All we really have to do is get _them_ caught fighting so they have to miss the Homecoming game. I’ll go get a teacher or something.” 

“We’re here as a deterrent. It’s no different from middle school bullshit, no one’s going to start anything if they’ve got an audience,” Alex said calmly. 

“If you don’t want anyone to start anything, why’d you invite me?” Rosa joked, smacking her gum. 

Liz frowned. “I don’t want to get into any trouble, but—I think you’re right. Kyle’s turning around, and he shouldn’t be punished for that.” 

Loud, laughing voices snapped out from around the corner, and everyone tensed, but no one tensed as much as Maria did, thrown back into her vision. Alex’s wristwatch ticked over to 3:09.

“What the fuck?”

It was Randy’s voice. He rounded the corner and stopped short, short enough that another guy ran into his back and fell over. Michael snorted out a laugh.

“What the fuck?” 

This voice was Kyle’s. From the other direction, Kyle approached, looking guarded and afraid, head whipping between the two crowds. But he was heartened, somewhat, even if it was only the freaks and geeks who were coming to bat for him. He locked eyes with Alex, and the two exchanged a nod, before Kyle approached his teammates who were no longer his team. And good riddance to them, if they went from studying together to wanting to actually cause him harm for—what, telling them they should stop harassing the gay kid? To be fair, that was a turnaround for him, but…

“Trevor, look,” Kyle began, stopping just out of melee range. “You’re overreacting. I just want to get to my car and get home to eat before practice. Unless you want us all kicked off the team just in time for the Homecoming game.” 

If Trevor and some of the others looked like they wanted to think about their actions, Hank had to ruin it, shouting from the back. “I don’t want to be on the same team as any fag-lover, anyway!” 

“That’s right, that’s no way to represent New Roswell High!” 

Rosa stepped behind Kyle, ready to throw down in all her righteous fury. “Wyatt, what the fuck are you doing here?” 

“What are _you_ doing here? Did you not graduate?”

That got some laughs and jeers, but Rosa was completely cool. 

“ _I’m_ here picking up my little siblings from school,” she said, wrapping an arm around Kyle that might have surprised everyone if they weren’t focused on other things. “I mean, I know you peaked in high school, Wyatt, but really? You showed up just to get your ass kicked by the sheriff’s kid?” She laughed. “You know how stupid that sounds, right?” 

“Get our asses kicked by Valenti?” one of the guys laughed stupidly. “The only quarterback in the state too short for scholarships?”

“Shut the fuck up, Matt,” Wyatt drawled. 

Hank looked the most uncertain of all of them. He’d gotten picked up a few times already for vandalism and shoplifting and the charges always went away, but…

“He _is_ the sheriff’s kid…” he said, taking a step back.

“They’re all a bunch of illegals, we won’t even _get_ in trouble,” Wyatt pointed out. 

Liz shrank back from that, but Rosa lunged. Kyle held her back. They couldn’t be the ones to start this fight—certainly anyone over 18 who didn’t go to school here anymore should not be the one to start the fight.

Isobel and Max stepped forward, as if on cue. Isobel had gone full Regina George, and Kyle was a little impressed. Maybe even turned on? 

“Don’t tell me you really want to try playing the white privilege card against the hate crime card, Wyatt,” she said, getting directly up in Wyatt’s face. “Even you’re not that bad at math.” 

“Yeah. You do _not_ want to piss off the President of the Yearbook Club,” Max added, which might have sounded tougher in his head than aloud. (Kyle appreciated it, but he also snorted a little.)

“...That’s him, not me,” Isobel corrected, vaguely annoyed now. 

“Look, are we going to fight or not?” Michael said, picking up Alex’s arm to look at his watch. “I gotta get to work, I don’t have time to waste on deciding whether or not to be chickenshit.”

Liz jumped in. “Mikey’s right. Let’s either get on with it or go home already.”

Trevor looked straight at Kyle. “What do you think, Valenti? Are you really going to cower behind a bunch of girls and losers, or are you going to stand up for yourself like a fucking man? What happened to you?”

Kyle glanced around him, just shaking his head minutely. He was _pissed_ . Realizing that _this_ was a friendship-breaker after years...and realizing on the heels of that that he had done no better to Alex in turn. So, enough. “I got a fucking clue.”

Because this whole production was technically on Alex’s behalf, Alex knew it was his duty to diffuse the situation. He saw a few openings, maybe, crack a make love not war joke, turn his back on them and leave them feeling…

Like they could try this again. Maybe wait til they caught Maria or Liz or Michael alone at a party—or even Kyle, he was a jock, sure, but he was _not_ a fighter—and just—God, they’d never be able to relax. 

Whatever they might do, Alex could not let that happen. He knew better than anyone how to deal with bullies, after all. 

“Let’s stop pretending this is about Valenti,” Alex said, stepping directly in front of Kyle and facing off against Trevor, who didn’t back down physically, though Randy and a few others shrank back. “This is between you and me, Trevor. So why don’t we let all these people go home? You and me can have it out. Loser sucks the winner’s cock.” 

Alex winked and dodged the punch that came immediately after. 

Rosa was already going after Trevor’s knees with her off-brand Docs, bringing him all the way down while he was off-balance from missing Alex. 

Hank rushed them like a fucking psycho, and Alex let him grab him around the middle, knocking him back into Michael, Liz, and Maria, who gave him just enough support that he yanked Hank's stupid mullet back and punched him in the side of the neck hard enough to make his limbs go loose. 

Meanwhile, Wyatt tripped backwards over a newspaper kiosk that somehow seemed to have jumped right out behind him. 

Maria gave Michael a sharp look at that, and Michael put his hand down sheepishly. 

Kyle and Matt Castillo were doing that posturing grappling bullshit that felt so manly and looked so dumb and didn’t even do anything—until Castillo suddenly looked dizzy and distracted long enough for Kyle to get in a gut-punch, and well, no one was looking at Isobel, because when Wyatt got up and charged the group with an unholy howl, he met the brick wall that was nerdy, bookish Max Fucking Evans, whose fist hit Wyatt’s face so hard it practically _sparked_ and dropped him in one hit.

After that, the rest of them looked glassy-eyed with terror (or something else) (was Isobel using her powers?) enough to back off. Alex stood over Trevor, now, and didn’t let him up before telling him, “Let’s do this again sometime.”

As other students ran over at the prospect of a fight, and someone called a teacher, they scattered. 

Maria tugged Rosa’s hoodie up over her face and ran off with her and Liz. Isobel promptly vomited into the rosemary bush, and Michael and Max rushed over to her. 

This left Alex and Kyle.

Alex had a bruise blooming on his cheek from Hank’s knuckles, and Kyle winced to look at it. 

“You...didn’t have to do that. None of you, any of this. I don’t know if I deserve it. But, uh...thank you. For not letting me get totally murdered somehow.” He leaned in closer and muttered, “Was this a, you know, thing? How did you guys know—you know what, never mind. Thanks. Again.”

“I figured being friends with those jerkwads for years is punishment enough, you didn’t need to get your ass kicked by them, too,” Alex said with a shrug, checking his lip for blood. “So any time you want to hang out...I promise being queer isn’t catching.” 

“Or alien,” Isobel suggested with a wink.

Kyle smiled at that and jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “Well if that’s what being big man on campus gets me...maybe girls and losers aren’t so bad.”

“What do you mean girls aren’t so bad?” Isobel asked, hawking up an unladylike loogy into the dirt. 

“Uh…” 

“Cut the man some slack, Isobel,” Michael snarked. “No one ever accused Valenti of having a brain for a superpower.”

“Well, then, maybe we would make a great team,” Isobel said, giving him the glad eye, because even after losing her lunch she was still a shark. 

Kyle coughed. “Yeah, uh. Thanks. Thanks again, Manes. I’ll see you later.”

He turned to head for his car, then changed his mind and went the other way to intercept any teachers that might be coming to investigate, Valenti charm turned up full force, to give his newfound allies a chance to get away from the scene of the crime. 

Max and Isobel made Michael leave (“Think of Mr. Ortecho.”), but they and Alex stayed behind, prepared to give full statements. 

In the end, the white privilege vs. hate crime cards balanced out so that no one got in serious trouble. Everyone got a detention (“We have to stop meeting like this, Kyle.” “ _Stop it_ , Alex.”) and half the seniors on the football team missed their last homecoming game. And Isobel made sure the whole town heard about Wyatt Long getting his ass kicked by nerdy, bookish Max Evans, and about Trevor _and_ Hank getting thrashed by the President of the Gay-Straight Alliance. 

“A true victory is one you don’t have to win twice,” Alex said, and he was right, because no one ever tried touching him or his friends again.


	3. Chapter 3

“You’re an artist, you have to be careful with your hands,” Maria scolded, washing Rosa’s knuckles once she got her and Liz home. 

Liz was vibrating: this was her first fight, and she had honestly never felt so alive, even though she didn’t really do anything. 

Rosa focused, keeping her hands so, so still in Maria’s, not doing anything to show how badly she wanted to flip her hands over to hold on to Maria’s. 

“I was extremely careful,” she said. “I went mostly for throats! It’s skulls that’ll really bust you up.”

"That was amazing! Did you see Max? And Alex? Sent those goons fucking  _ packing _ ."

"Don't swear," Rosa told her mildly, not liking the direction that Liz was taking towards maniacally bloodthirsty. "No fighting unless I'm there."

"Yeah, because you kicked ass! Holy shit, Rosa, I didn't  _ know _ ."

"That's by design, twerp," Rosa said, distracting herself from the tingle of Maria’s touch with mothering Liz, as she usually did. "Nobody touched you, right?"

“Rosa, I’m  _ fine.  _ More than fine! Alex fought like two dudes at once, there wasn’t even anyone  _ for  _ me to fight.”

A challenged spark lit up her eyes. 

“Hey, Maria, do you want to take a self-defense class with me? We could totally kick ass together.”

“Sure,” Maria laughed, as Liz took her excess energy shadow-boxing into the kitchen. Maria called after her, “Why don’t you shadow-box your way into putting some pizza rolls in the oven?”

Rosa was also grinning, but watching Maria as she did. “It’s always the nerds you gotta watch out for. Once they figure out they won’t die if they cross that line...they want to cross all the lines. Why do you think I work so hard to keep the twerps in line?” 

Her smile softened as Maria sat beside her again. “You’re okay, too, right? Anybody touch you?” 

“I’m fine. I think Michael tripped anyone who even got close to me.” She shook her head with a wry smile. “Dumbass.”

She finished bandaging Rosa’s hand. The strangest urge came over her, to pick that hand up, to kiss her knuckles over the gauze, like, like…

No, no, time to think about something else.

“I can’t believe we saved  _ Kyle Valenti  _ today. He better not wake up tomorrow with his head up his own ass again.”

“I was thinking I should talk to him,” Rosa said, with a huge sigh. “Though seems like Alex has got him covered. Two little nerds is enough to handle, you know, I didn’t ask for a third. I’m gonna be a  _ great _ mom someday.” 

“Life has given you  _ way  _ too much practice. You deserve a break sometimes, you know.” Maria nudged her with her shoulder. “I can even try to see the future, see when the world might cut you some slack.”

“Ha,” Rosa said, and then gave Maria a knowing look. “Haven’t you done that enough for one day? Alex is smart, but he can’t predict the future. No way he put that together without help.” 

“It...was the clearest vision I’ve ever had while I was awake. And the worst it’s ever hurt.” Maria said quietly. “It was triggered by laughing in the hallway, and I saw so much, I saw the parking lot behind the gym, I saw the time on Alex’s watch, I saw Kyle getting t-torn apart…”

“Hey, hey,” Rosa said, sliding close and putting an arm around her friend. She pulled her close, kissing her hair. “I didn’t want you to relive it. Anyway, they’re not supposed to hurt, right? I don’t want you doing weird stuff with your brain that hurts.” 

Maria snuggled closer, just a little. “I don’t know about  _ supposed  _ to. I’d wake up with a headache sometimes after a dream. But this was...a lot. I haven’t told Mom yet. Not looking forward to that conversation—I hate worrying her.”

“Well, you have to tell her, or I will,” Rosa said, squeezing her. “You need anything now? Ibuprofen, or…?” 

Liz came back, then, looking more chilled out. 

Rosa opened her other arm, and as Liz tucked herself in against her side, she asked, “Pizza rolls in the oven?” 

“Yeah. I’m exhausted now. Being in a fight sure takes it out of you!” 

“You weren’t in a…” Rosa began, but sighed, letting it go. “Well, we’re waiting here until Alex gets home.” She poked Maria. “Hope that’s cool.”

“Of course.” Maria reached over to pull Liz into a hug too. She needed to start filling up her reserves of Liz hugs now, since she was definitely leaving at the end of the school year, jetting off on her big adventure. 

Liz ended up sprawled across both of them before the timer went off. Maria got up to get them from the oven. This was good, familiar, fun, even if Liz would be leaving them for college—and Michael, and maybe Alex and Max, too. Well, as long as Rosa stayed, or didn’t go too far, Maria would be fine. 

“Come over tonight,” Rosa said, out of the blue. “I think we all deserve milkshakes.” 

“Yeah, come over,” Liz agreed. “I told Papi you’re not dating Michael anymore so you’re allowed to stay over again.” 

“Nice! I have been denied Mr. Ortecho’s classic breakfasts for  _ months _ . The sacrifices I made, I swear—” Her grin faltered, though. Michael said he and Rosa fought after the breakup. Would her coming over cause problems again? But Rosa and Liz both wanted her there, so…

“Come over,” Liz repeated, squeezing her arm. “It’s okay, seriously. He's good. If you're good?"

“Okay, I'm good. I’ll just call Mom.”

At that point Alex walked in the door. 

"Oh thank God you guys made food," he said, stuffing his face with pizza rolls. 

“Hey!”

“Ugh!”

Liz and Rosa both snatched the last of their share of the pizza rolls off the tray with a speed and ferocity that Maria, not being a lifelong sibling, could never hope to compete with. The rest of the rolls were surrendered to Alex, who scarfed them down quickly.

“Where have you been, anyway?” Liz asked.

“Debriefing. Me and Kyle and the Evanses handled it. You were  _ not  _ there, so please come up with a solid alibi,” Alex said. “Everyone got some detentions, but the jocks got the worse end of the deal. I’ll let you be surprised when we lose Homecoming.” 

“I mean, that wouldn’t exactly be a  _ surprise _ ,” Maria pointed out. Their team wasn’t particularly good, especially when they played bigger schools. 

“Maybe Kyle should quit the team,” Liz said. “Homecoming is one thing, but what about the next game? I know he must want to see it through, but…”

“He’s a big boy, he’ll figure it out.”

Liz shot Rosa a scathing look. Then her face turned more pensive. “You know, I know most of their girlfriends—or exes—I bet I could come up with enough blackmail to keep them in line.”

“You have been hanging around Isobel way too much,” Rosa said. “But that’s not a bad idea.” 

“Oh, no, I’m not getting involved with any Regina George schemes,” Maria said, but was helpless not to be drawn in when Rosa grabbed her arm.

“Come on, you love a good hustle,” Rosa said.

Alex snorted in agreement. “I’m not going to  _ not  _ tell you to use their fragile heterosexual masculinity against them… Also, if no one has work, we should really get some band practice in. This stupid fight is messing with our lives enough.”

“Who even knows where Michael is, though. When he’s not at the diner or at the junkyard, he’s mowing lawns, rescuing kittens, helping old ladies cross the street and getting tipped in hard candy...he won’t even tell us what he’s saving up for, the jackass.”

“I know!” Liz complained. “What’s his deal, I mean, his scholarship is more than mine, even…” And her eye definitely didn’t twitch at that.

“It’s just because he’s staying in state. You’ll be eligible for a lot more once you get there and declare your major. A Latina in STEM? You’ll be rolling in it,” Alex told her. 

“Right, it’s my consolation for dealing with the misogyny and racism that keeps people like me out of science in the first place,” Liz said. Already in a fiery mood, she collected her bags. “Well, okay, if you guys are gonna practice, I’ll head home. If Michael’s there, I’ll send him over.” 

“We’re gonna have to replace our bassist anyway, when Michael leaves us,” Maria said, pouting. “We could be like the Doors and I can just play basslines on the keyboard I guess?” 

Maria’s cell phone rang. “Ooh, it’s  _ Max _ . Liz, are you here?” 

Liz didn’t blush easily, but she was sure blushing now. “Sure, I’m here. But he might not be calling for me, you know, I know you guys like to tease but he isn’t  _ obsessed… _ ”

“Sure, Liz,” all three of her friends chorused.

"You know, he was pretty metal today. Nothing like a racist running into a bookworm’s fist and knocking himself out…"

Maria picked up. 

"Hey, Maria. It's Max. Are you guys okay?"

"Yep. Some bruised knuckles that I'm told Rosa hurt falling off her skateboard to get here," Maria said, wondering innocently, "Why, were you guys in a  _ fight _ ?"

Max huffed, but played along. "Yeah, something like that. We're at the Crashdown now. Liz and Rosa are with you, then?"

"Have been all afternoon. You know…" Maria said, eyes sparkling. "I could send Liz over there to do, you know, to do homework or whatever, if you sent Michael over to my house for band practice…"

"Oh, my gosh, I completely forgot about that! Michael, you better get over to the DeLuca's!" she heard Max say to someone else. 

Maria laughed while Liz blushed even harder and Rosa cackled madly. 

“He’s on his way,” Max said breathily, coming back to the phone. 

“Thanks, Max!” Maria sing-songed, hanging up with a huge grin.

“You guys suck!”

“Aww, c’mon, Liz, Max is a good guy!” Alex said, trying to soothe her, and it mostly worked. "And, man,  _ no one _ is going to mess with you after today if you're dating a brick shithouse like that…"

"I know, right?" Rosa howled with laughter. "I think Alex is jealous."

"I mean, he's just objectively hot!" Alex said in his defense. 

"Fine! I'm going!" Liz said, blushing and grinning, and left before Michael got there to make it feel slightly less like a hostage exchange.

Maria and Rosa glomped onto Michael the moment he arrived, bass strapped to his back.

"You okay, little brother?" Rosa asked, though she knew Michael had been behind her with Liz and Maria for the fight—exactly where she wanted him in a fight. Alex, she trusted to handle dirty work with her, but Michael and Maria and Liz should stay soft. 

“All my trouble-making is strictly a hands-off experience,” Michael said, holding up his hands in mock-surrender and wiggling his fingers. 

Maria laughed. “Liar. You totally punched Randy.”

“Okay,  _ maybe  _ an opportunity presented itself…”

‘Opportunity’ was code for ‘fucking coward was trying to sneak up on Alex from behind.’ Michael’s eyes were inexorably drawn in his direction, looking him up and down to make sure he was okay, targeted as he had been in the fight. 

“All good then?” he asked.

Alex squeezed Michael's shoulder. "All is good. Let's practice a bit. You eaten? We can make more pizza rolls."

"I'm fine, ate at home."

Alex wandered into the garage to start plugging in amps and turning on fans. "We...might have a gig this Saturday…"

"Oh?" Maria asked, getting waters for everyone. 

Rosa pushed her drum kit out. 

"Yeah, uhh…" Alex looked around at them sheepishly. "The Vice Principle is really cool, you know, and after we talked...you know, one thing led to another, and we'll all be on extracurricular probation through Friday, you know, the day of the Homecoming  _ game _ , but it lifts  _ Saturday _ , and she mentioned the band they booked for Homecoming  _ ball  _ bailed…"

There was a crash as Rosa let one of the cymbals fall deliberately. Delighted and appalled in equal measure, she said, “You  _ didn’t!  _ You little  _ maniac! _ ”

Maria was a bit more measured. “Are we ready for that? Is there already a setlist? Do we have to come up with one? How long will we have to play?”

“Does this mean I have to forfeit my bid for the throne?” 

Everyone turned to look at Michael.

“I’m  _ kidding,  _ oh my God.”

Alex briefly wondered if there was a part of Michael, any part, that would have put in a bid if he and Maria were still together. He did his best to ignore the curiosity. 

"It's even a paying gig. Not much, but better than you'll make at the Crashdown for the same two hours. We set our own list, but the songs have to be approved by the student council and the…" Alex looked around. "Does this mean I can tell Topolsky yes?"

"I mean, I didn't have any other plans," Rosa huffed. 

"I'm definitely in!" Maria cried. "Sounds way better than going  _ to _ Homecoming."

Michael slung his arm around Alex’s shoulders and squeezed him tight. “Look at this guy, getting us our first real gig!”

(God, he almost kissed Alex right on the temple when he pulled him in close— _ No, Michael, that is not allowed, don’t make it weird— _ )

"The quinceñeras were real!" Alex protested. “We got paid for those!”

"Yeah. Real lame," Rosa said, and gave her drumsticks a twirl. "So what're we playing?"

"We have a 2 hour slot," Alex said, "before they bring in a DJ. So they want dance music but it'll also be early, you know. From 7 to 9. So average of 4 minutes a song, we can each pick like 6 or 7 favorites?" 

“Ugh,  _ math, _ ” Rosa lamented with a grin, already pulling out a scrap of paper and starting to scribble.

“I don’t need you guys mocking my taste in music again,” Michael said. “I donate my picks to the highest bidder.”

"Highest bidder?" Alex repeated, bemused, and before his imagination got away with him, asked, "What's your price?"

"I like your country bops, Michael!" Maria said, squeezing his arm. "Everyone gets to pick their favorite songs!"

"I'll take yours, Mikey," Rosa said, filling up her list quickly. "And in return I'll be nice to you."

“Not so fast.” His eyes stayed fixed on Alex, a little smile still curling the corner of his mouth. “Maybe I want to hear my other offers.”

Alex laughed a little giddily. “Oh, yeah right. Like maybe I’ll do your homework worse than you could, or cook you a meal worse than you could make for yourself, maybe.”

“We all know Michael accepts cash bribes in non-sequentially numbered bills, like the alien mafia,” Maria said.

“No, that’s  _ you _ , Maria, babe,” Rosa laughed. 

Michael laughed along and picked his bass back up. “Okay, Rosa and Alex get to split my spots. Three each and then for the last one you fight to the death for my amusement.”

"We can do some Kid Rock if you want, you don’t have to be shy,” Maria laughed at him. 

“Wait, did I just get locked in to doing homework wrong and cooking a terrible meal for you?” Alex said, tuning his guitar. 

Rosa started banging on her drums loudly and impatiently. “Let’s just do some Goo Goo Dolls, damn it!”

Maria plugged in a mic and set it up in front of the keyboard. “Okay, but Evanescence afterward.” 

“Groan,” Alex said aloud, but started up the riff for “Slide.” The others followed his lead.


	4. Chapter 4

When band practice finally wound down, Alex took Rosa and Michael home. Mimi came home not long after he left, and though it was late, she and Maria flopped onto the couch together. 

“You want some tea, Mama?” Maria asked, though she didn’t look like she actually wanted to get up. 

“In a minute. How was your day?”

“Um,” Maria said. “So, complicated.”

“Michael stuff?” 

“No, God, mama, that’s the least complicated part of it,” Maria laughed, and then bit her lip. “There was a fight at school today.” 

Mimi looked Maria over quickly and sharply, but confirming that she was unhurt, she relaxed again and smiled, tugging her daughter in to cuddle beside her. “Oh? I hope you charged for tickets.”

"I should have! If I'd known enough in advance…"

Mimi raised an eyebrow. 

"I knew in advance," Maria confessed. "I knew it was going to happen, like, before."

She waited to see how her mother would react to this. 

Mimi kept up a slow petting of Maria’s hair, trying not to let her worry show. “You had another dream?”

“It...it wasn’t a dream. I was in music class, and I heard laughter in the hallway, and suddenly I-I saw this  _ vision  _ o-of Kyle Valenti getting, like, torn apart by dogs, but somehow I knew it wasn’t really dogs, it was his stupid football team friends. Because he stood up for Alex today.”

“He did? About damn time.”

“Yeah! And when I saw he was going to be hurt, I called everyone—Michael, the Ortechos, the Evanses, and Alex of course—and we all went to back him up. We  _ saved him _ .” Her next words came out all in a rush. “And I know my dreams are scary and you’re worried about me but what if this ability is a good thing? What if I can save more people? What if—”

Mimi sighed.

“What? What is it?” Maria said, wounded and defensive. “I can! I can—”

“I don’t doubt your ability to do anything, baby,” Mimi said softly. “I just...wasn’t ready to have this talk. Or, well, was hoping I would never have to.”

"Mom!" Maria complained. "What, you wanted me to turn out more like my deadbeat dad? Come on, we both have these abilities. What do you know about them? Where do they come from? How do they work? Can I turn them off and on?"

“I didn’t want you to turn out like anyone but yourself,” Mimi said, squeezing her. “But I wanted you to have...an easier life, in some ways. What do you remember about your Gramma Patty?”

“Mostly her being sick. I remember how we’d have tea parties together, how she got involved with my, like, imaginary friends… How she’d cream me at cards…” Maria’s brow furrowed, then her eyes grew huge. “Did Grandma Patty have our crazy abilities, too?!” 

Mimi nodded. “Mm-hm. You come from a line of very unique women, my girl. Your grandmother never knew her birth family, but she always knew she was special. And the way she told me, when she was around your age, she started seeing visions of the future.”

Maria’s mouth fell open, grinning. “What, really? That’s cool! ...That’s cool, right, mom? We’re this long line of badass black women with superpowers?” 

“It’s definitely cool. But would I be uncool if I told you ‘with great power comes great responsibility?’ These powers have...consequences, Maria. Your grandma...every time she used her powers, it took a little bit of her away.” She pulled her necklace out of her shirt. “This pendant was a gift from her mother, and it stopped the visions from happening while she wore it, and it stopped the decline, too. But Mom was a fighter. She felt like she wasn’t doing enough to protect us—to protect me—unless she knew what was coming. And then one day, a couple years before I was born, her fortune-telling caught the eye of…hm. How much have Alex and Michael told you about what happened three years ago? That time Alex ended up in the hospital?”

Maria had so many questions, taking the necklace and peering at it like it might hold the answers, but they were swallowed up in her mother's mention of—

"Caulfield?" Maria looked vaguely guilty, knowing this was a secret, but Alex was her brother and Michael was her friend, so of course they told her everything. "The alien prison Alex's dad ran? And Michael's mom was there? Was grandma an alien, too?!"

“That’s one theory. She never knew her birth parents. But all they needed to know was that she was special; that there were things about her that didn’t fit into their narrow worldview. I tried, when I was old enough to know what she went through, to infiltrate—to figure out what might have happened.” 

Maria's face was adorably suspicious. "Mom,  _ you _ infiltrated a secret military base?" 

Her mom was cool, but not, like, that cool. 

"What, you think I was friends with Jesse Manes in high school because he used to be a nice guy or something? No, I wanted to know what happened to my mother."

"Did you find out?"

“No, I never could. Once I realized what was really going on there, Jim and I knew we had to get out, try and do something. And anyway, there was a fire in the eighties. Any record of her was destroyed.”

“Huh. Lots of fires for one facility,” Maria said, lips pressed into a line. 

Mimi sat up, encouraged Maria to sit up too, and took her hands. “Your powers are a part of you, just like they’re a part of me. And I know you want to use them to help people—you’re a wonderful, compassionate person, of course you do. But they are also dangerous. I want you to have a long and happy life, do you understand?”

"Will I get into trouble if I use them? I'll keep them secret, it’s okay, Mama…"

“It’s  _ not  _ okay, Maria. It isn’t about you being in trouble—it’s about your life. Everyone feels invincible at seventeen, but your powers put you at so much risk. Here.” Mimi took off her necklace and put it around Maria’s neck. “Now that your visions have begun for real, it’s time you had this. It’s protected me all these years; now it’s your turn. I love you so much.”

"Uh...wait, but what will happen to you?" Maria said, drawing her hand back, refusing to touch the necklace. "If you give that to me, won't it put you at risk?"

“Let me worry about that, okay? My mother lived a full life and had no regrets. I couldn’t ask for anything more. Protecting you is the most important thing, okay?”

" _ Mom _ ," Maria said, standing up, feeling her face heating. "Seriously, fuck that. I'm not taking anything that's protecting you to protect me! What if I  _ want _ my visions, huh? Today they saved Kyle. Healed the rift between him and Alex that lasted for years. What'll happen to you if I take it? Will you get sick like Gramma?"

“Maria, I am asking you to trust that I know what’s best for you. Have I ever given you a reason to doubt that? I’m not trying to take your visions away, I’m trying to give you the tools to protect yourself!”

They heard Mimi’s Volvo pull up outside. Alex was home. Maria continued to glare. 

“Wear the necklace,” Mimi said. It was an order; she spoke with authority. She’d never spoken that way to her daughter before, and her own eyes filled with tears when Maria’s did. “What will you do if the visions start coming more frequently? During class? Will you stop paying attention so you can try and look ahead for the answers? Is that the way you want to live your life? Your life matters right  _ now.  _ Who you are  _ right now  _ matters. Not just the future.  _ Now.”  _

She pressed the amulet into Maria’s hand.

"Mom," Maria said, crying even as she took the necklace. "Mom, what about you?"

But Maria didn't get a good answer for that, because when Alex came in, she pushed past him, crying, and slammed the door to her room. 

Alex's eyes were huge. "What was that about? Mimi, if you heard about the fight, I can explain—"

“No, hon, it’s not about the fight you had at school.” She gave Alex a tired smile, squeezed his hand, and kissed his forehead. “I’m glad Kyle has turned over a new leaf. How do you feel?”

"Yeah, me too," Alex said, though he stared still in Maria’s direction. "And I'm fine."

Alex let Mimi examine the shiner on his face while he continued: "When you check the answering machine there'll be messages for you from the vice principal. I'm already getting detention, along with Kyle and the Evanses and half the football seniors." He grinned unrepentantly and shrugged. "I made sure Maria and the Ortechos bailed, and they didn't really do anything, anyway. I didn’t want them getting in trouble."

“I’m surprised no one’s getting suspended. Vice Principal Topolsky must be going soft,” Mimi said. She squeezed Alex’s hand again. “I’m proud of you for standing up for yourself and others. Not that I didn’t already know the kind of man you are.”

"Yeah, well, Mimi, these are  _ different times _ from when you were a teen. Like, what, in the 70s?" Alex joked, just so she'd swat at him and laugh. "But seriously, get this. We're all in trouble for fighting, of course, but she wants to like, Take A Stand against harassment, or whatever, so guess whose detention lifts the day before the homecoming ball?"

"Yours?"

"Well, everyone's. But guess whose band has been invited to play at homecoming?" Alex beamed. "I'm not kidding myself, it's political more than that anyone thinks we're good, but it's still  _ something… _ "

“Congratulations! Who cares if it’s a political move, you guys _ are  _ good, and now you’ve got a chance to show it. That’s so exciting! Just let me know when I need to clear out so you can have all the practice you need without a mom breathing down your necks,” Mimi said with a wink.

“Thanks, Mimi.” Alex gave her a hug: he was a young man now, nearly taller than her, though not as tall as he’d hoped he’d be by now. “...So what’s up with Maria?”

Mimi sighed. “It’s not something I feel comfortable talking about behind her back, and I won’t force her to talk to me again tonight if she doesn’t want to. She may talk to you herself, though, and I bet she’d appreciate you asking about her.”

Alex frowned, and hugged Mimi again. “Okay. I’ll ask her. I’m gonna throw the dishes in the dishwasher and head to bed.” 

Mimi laughed. “You might be the only kid in the world who reminds  _ me  _ about chores. Thanks, pumpkin.” 

He finished up and headed for his room, but Mimi made herself one last cup of tea before bed and sat at the table, forehead against her hand. Was she doing the right thing? Mimi herself would have felt much the same. If her mother had ever given her a choice. 

Protecting Maria was the most important thing in the entire world, but at what point did protection just become control? She had prided herself on raising a free-spirited, fair-minded daughter, after all. 

Maybe by pushing Alex and Maria together on this, she gave them cause to ally against her, but Mimi was just glad they had each other. And especially glad that the whole thing with Michael hadn’t torn them apart. He’d always been such a nice boy; she’d hate to have to hate him now. 

Michael was a good example, though, in Mimi’s mind. If Maria had known from the start that she and Michael were not to be life partners, would she have dated him at all? Not pursued those good memories? It was a constant temptation to look ahead, but the future was never a complete picture. Never.

Maria would see that one day.

...

As Alex was about to climb into bed, Maria knocked on his door. 

“Yeah, come in,” Alex whispered. 

Maria was in her pajamas, with Mimi’s flower necklace on over everything. She had obviously been crying. “Can we talk?” 

Alex slid to one side of his bed, making room for her. “Permission to come aboard.” 


	5. Chapter 5

Michael checked and triple-checked all their equipment, from the smallest mic all the way up to his bass. Everything was in line, but what if it wasn’t? Michael wasn’t afraid of a little social humiliation like what they’d face if they had technical difficulties in front of the whole school, but Rosa and Maria and Alex deserved better.

Also if he was busy with the equipment, he wasn’t trying not to stare at Alex in his dramatic, deep purple suit, heavily lined eyes, silver accessories. Friends. They were friends. Best friends. Okay? Okay. 

Sure. As if his face wasn’t _still_ blushing as he tried not to look at Alex’s styled hair, the serious set of his brows he always got when he was psyching himself up for something.

Michael pulled Alex’s guitar into his lap for something to do with his hands, running his fingers over it reverently, checking the tuning. And okay—he let himself imagine Alex’s fingers over his on the neck of the instrument, and a shiver ran down his spine.

“Rosa, it’s too late,” Maria giggled, trying to tug Rosa up from the floor. “It won’t have time to dry and the vibrations will mess it up. You’re going to get paint on your clothes!” 

Rosa was already getting dirt from the stage on her clothes as she lay on her side, touching up the huge rainbow rose she had painted on her drum kit, with “Alex + the Aliens” in graffiti print in the center. It was loud and abstract and impossible to read from far away, but Alex loved it, and Rosa was almost satisfied with it. “I’m almost done! And I brought a change of clothes. Unlike the rest of you, I actually get a workout doing this.” 

“I brought a clean shirt,” Alex said with a shrug. “Michael, relax, everything’s in tune. You want some punch?” 

“Don’t have punch before you sing, Alex!” Maria scolded. “Just water!” 

“Hardly anyone’s going to be here to hear us,” Alex said. They had the 7-9 slot before the DJ arrived, when people would be getting dinner and things, and it was Homecoming, not Prom, so not exactly a primetime slot. Still, Alex only downplayed it because he was secretly brimming with excitement. “But fine.” 

He took a knee to tape the set list to the floor in between his and Maria’s mics. 

Maria looked to Michael to help. “Can we get them to keep their clothes clean, please?” 

Michael set Alex’s guitar carefully aside and came over to join the others, holding out his hand to help Alex stand. His leg still gave him trouble after being shot years ago; it definitely wasn’t that Michael just wanted to hold his hand.

Maria, of course, was in a killer sparkly silver dress that her mother almost didn’t let her out of the house in even before she removed the removable straps. She was wearing the stupid necklace (which clashed, by the way, with the dress), so that was the only allowance her mother was getting with how she dressed, thank you. She popped open a mirror to fix her lipstick again. “Rosa, come with me to the bathroom so I can clean you up.” 

Once the girls were gone, Michael edged closer to Alex and said, “I’ll get your water. And help you clean the stage dirt off your knees if, I mean, if you want to. Maybe a bit of scuff adds to your look.”

It was already hot on stage, even without the main lights on. Michael was hot. So what if his face was flushed? Shut up.

Alex was resolutely not thinking about how very much he would like to see Michael on his knees in front of him, especially in what _he_ was wearing, and if Alex’s eyes got briefly wide, that was his only reaction. “Nah, yeah, man. The scuff. I’m here representing the LGBT student body, after all. Maybe they’ll think it’s scandalous.” 

Alex chuckled and threw an arm around Michael, dragging him over to the wall of water bottles waiting for the student body to arrive. “I love what you’re wearing, by the way. You look like a blond Johnny Cash.” 

Michael did, in his black jeans and black shirt buttoned up to the top and finished off with a bolo tie. He looked honestly like his dad had dressed him, which he probably _had_ , and that was insanely, stupidly attractive to Alex right now. Gosh, his mouth was dry. 

“Oh, um, same. What you’re wearing, I mean.” If possible, Michael blushed even harder. “You look way cooler than me. I could never pull off half the stuff you wear, and you always look incredible.”

Both boys chugged their water bottles almost simultaneously, studiously avoiding each other’s eyes.

Alex actually choked on his, mostly because he made the mistake of looking down at Michael’s throat bobbing and had obscene thoughts about that—and as he was coughing up water and hoping this wouldn’t wreck his voice he thought, _This is ridiculous. It’s been three years_.

“Okay, provided I don’t die in the meantime,” Alex finally managed, wiping his mouth but unconcerned about the water down his shirt front, knowing it would dry in five minutes, “and provided Brendan Urie doesn’t show up to take me away from all this...”

Michael laughed, which was good, because it gave Alex the courage to blurt out the rest of the question while Michael wasn’t quite looking at him:

“You wanna save me a dance?” 

Michael’s brain completely short circuited and his (thankfully empty) water bottle slipped from his fingers and hit the ground. He scrambled after it, and when he popped back up his hair was even messier, curls all tumbled around his face, and he managed to say something sort of smooth.

“Are you sure? I danced with Maria at prom and we ended up dating for four months—you might not be able to get rid of me.”

Then he winced at his own dumbassery, using a line like that on Maria’s _brother_ so soon after their breakup. Idiot. He hadn’t even ever asked her how she’d feel if he and Alex...if they…

“Ha,” Alex laughed appreciatively, if awkwardly, hand going to the back of his neck. “Right, oh, right. You and Maria just broke up, I’m sorry, man. That would be pretty tasteless, I guess.”

Alex knew Maria hadn’t been supremely bothered, was already telling him about a cute new boy in her class who despite being named Chad seemed nice, but Alex didn’t know that Michael wasn’t still pining. _Ugh. Way to go, Manes_. “I mean—I just meant, you know, like what a power move, like, we’re here, we’re queer.”

“You know you’re already GSA President, and you can’t be elected if you don’t go here anymore, so I’m not sure you need to be _more_ queer,” Forrest Long said, joining them with a wide smile and passing out fresh water bottles. 

Alex winced. He’d forgotten Forrest was among the juniors who were helping to organize prom. Now he looked like a cad from _both_ directions, since he and Forrest had dated over the summer. “Ah, shit. Now I’m just furthering stereotypes about gay men and promiscuity.” 

Forrest beamed. “Nah. And even if you were, as long as condoms are in use, as your Veep, I’m not here to judge.” 

Michael quietly seethed behind a nice polite smile. Why did Forrest always have to be so _helpful?_ And why did he have to be so helpful _here,_ or wherever Alex was, _all the time_? Didn’t he have some old ladies’ socks to darn or something? A bake sale to conduct? A puppy to spoil while taking pictures with it for a charity calendar? Michael thought, very reasonably, that it wasn’t too much to ask for Forrest Long to save the world one smile at a time from somewhere where he wasn’t two seconds from charming Alex back into his heart.

“—ichael. Michael!”

Michael jumped, almost dropping his water bottle again. “Oh! Uh, yes, I mean, my answer is yes. I’ll totally save you a dance, Alex.”

Alex beamed, looking for one second like they were the only two in the room. 

“I’ll be sure to get a couple pictures of you two,” Forrest said with a wink. “For the yearbook.”

Because of course he was on Yearbook, too. He and Max were great allies, as well, of course.

“Totally looking forward to hearing you guys play. Some move, Manes,” Forrest congratulated. “I’m really not sure how the football jocks know how to get revenge when violence isn’t an option for them. It’s a thing to see.” 

“Oh, believe me, I know,” Alex chuckled. “I guess we better get back to the stage. Thanks for the water, Forrest.” 

“No problem. I’m bringing a case up just for you guys. Break a leg! And if your schedule isn’t full, you could save me a dance as well.” Forrest beamed and went back to the decorations.

Once he was gone, Michael remembered his manners. Alex and Forrest dated almost as long as he and Maria did. He should show a little concern for Alex’s feelings, it didn’t matter what he thought about Alex’s ex.

“Hey,” he said, touching Alex’s elbow gently. “You okay? Is it weird working with him on stuff like this, or…?”

"Nah, it's fine. And I'm sorry for suggesting we dance. It's probably better we don't in case it upsets Maria. I don't even like dancing, it hurts my leg after a while," Alex said, but he wrapped an arm around Michael's waist almost possessively, anyway, like if he couldn't have him on the dance floor he'd have him every other way. 

_Oh, if only…_

“Don’t be sorry! Seriously, I _want_ to dance with you.”

By then the girls were back, giggling and taking no notice of how close the boys were standing. They wore matching red lipstick, and had darkened their eyeliner. 

Rosa was wearing an outfit oddly similar to Michael's, complete with bolo tie. "Don't ask. Dad's still mad I didn't wear the dress he picked out for me for my prom. I'll change once I soak this in sweat."

"Gross," Maria giggled, but luckily she intercepted Forrest this time when he arrived with the case of waters so Alex could busy himself tuning his guitar. Maria was _also_ friendly with Forrest, laughing at some joke or other. Was Michael the only one who hated him? 

Once Forrest had gone off again, Michael took Maria aside and, looking her up and down, smiled at her. 

“You look gorgeous tonight,” he said, and when she raised an eyebrow at that he just laughed and said, “I know! I know. But it’s true, and I’m allowed to say it as your friend.” He scrubbed his hand through his curls then, and continued, stumbling over the words. “Um, about that, as your friend, kind of thing...would it be weird, for you, if I danced with Alex tonight?”

Maria blew a raspberry of disdain, her answer automatic. "No, of course not! Just like it better not bother you that I'm dancing with as many people as will have me until my feet fall off."

Michael laughed all carefree and light at that. “Of course not! That sounds...fun?”

He couldn’t help but look over at his shoulder to see what Alex was up to, already daydreaming about what it would be like to share that dance.

Maria patted his arm, then grabbed him and looked more closely at him. "Now, is this like, a _thing_? Oh my God, are you two a thing??"

This is what he deserved for talking to the psychic. 

“No! No, we’re totally not a thing, he definitely let me know we were just friends back when we were freshmen, and I respect that. I think he just wants to dance with a guy to drive the point home to the jocks, y’know?”

Maria gave Michael A Look. She had several Looks for him while they had been dating, and he was well trained enough to know the meaning of this one. This was, _I'm allowing you to have your dumb ass opinion, but you'd be better off listening to me_. Mostly, Michael would cave and ask and follow her advice, but this was different, and they weren't dating anymore! So he held firm.

So Maria said, "Okay, well, don't let me stand in the way of your dancing with anyone, but especially not my adoptive brother." 

And she went to check her mic. 

Michael hustled off to run through his own warmups. He was glad to have ceded his spots on the set list to his friends. They all had more cohesive musical taste than he did, but he didn’t mind; playing the music they loved was his favorite part of being in this band. He was no musical prodigy, but being part of something like this, sharing this with three of the people he loved the most…

It was too bad Liz hadn’t wanted to join them. All her extracurriculars were tied up in things like tutoring and working, saving up all the money she could to put toward her life in college. And she’d always assured them she didn’t feel left out, loved to listen to them play and dance along, when they played music to dance to. She’d be here tonight with Kyle, bodyguarding him more than anything else, really, and Michael hoped he’d get a chance to dance with her too. She would laugh and have a great time while he sweated and worked his ass off to keep up with her.

“We’re letting people in now, so you guys can start whenever!” Forrest called, straightening his bow tie as he ran off to man the ticket booth. 

“Alright, huddle up,” Alex said, wrapping an arm around Maria and Michael, who wrapped arms around Rosa to complete the circuit. “Love you guys, we’re gonna do great. I’ll call out the songs, Rosa will count us down, and then we’ll get out there and have some fun. I wouldn’t want to go to homecoming with anyone else but you guys.” 

Maria kissed his cheek, and then turned and kissed Rosa’s cheek, too. “Aw, we love you, too, Alex.”

Rosa pulled away first because her face heated up at the kiss, and she took her position behind her drum kit. 

“Alright, warming up with the very heterosexual ‘I Kissed a Girl,’” Alex said, grinning between Maria and Rosa. 

“We should wait til the football bros show up for that one!” Maria complained. 

“We’re sticking to the set list, DeLuca,” said Alex in his sternest band leader voice. 

Maria sighed and rolled her eyes. “You’re no fun.” 

“That’s right, I’m no fun. That’s why you’re performing in front of the whole school. No fun at all.” 

Maria stuck her tongue out at him and Rosa counted them off. 

Rosa’s songs were Maria’s, and Maria’s songs were Alex’s, and Alex’s songs were from bands Rosa introduced him to over his first bottle of black nail polish, the both of them furious and hurting at the entire world. But it wasn’t Alex Rosa was looking at now. In silver, Maria captured every bit of light, absorbed it, cast it off, glowed beneath it. Rosa was captivated a long time before Maria opened her mouth to sing. 

What was she waiting for? For Maria to already have a career and a 401k and better offers, so rejection didn’t hurt so much? For a _sign?_ She’d had a hundred signs, on a hundred different nights, on top of the Crashdown roof with Maria at her side and Pisces pointing down at them. 

Maria caught her eye and grinned at her over the keys, and Rosa grinned back, helpless to do anything else.

Meanwhile, Alex felt more alive when he was playing, and felt more _feelings_ than he ever remembered feeling when he wasn’t playing music. He loved literally everyone when he was playing, which was proof positive that he was not his usual self. He didn’t like about 95% of the school, but tonight he wanted to French kiss just about everyone here. 

And his feelings about Michael just ran rampant. Alex wanted to kiss every part of his body, from the tips of his fingers pressed to the bass frets, to his forearms with the sleeves rolled up, from his feet hitting the pedals for different effects to the sweat running into his eyes and dripping off his curls. He wasn’t sure he could be trusted to dance just one dance with him, because he might never let him go. 

They went through their set list of Panic! At the Disco, Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers, Fall Out Boy, Evanescence, Green Day, Rihanna, Linkin Park, Selena, Goo Goo Dolls, Everclear, Jennifer Lopez, and so on until everyone in the crowd was happy with at least something. And they actually were happy: this wasn’t just some band hired by the school to play good clean music, this was one of their own, playing music they all knew and could dance to even if it wasn’t music they always loved. Alex + the Aliens wrapped it up with Dolly Parton’s “Jolene,” which had the crowd going wild and singing along. 

They took their bows to cheers that were more than polite, with the DJ waiting in the wings to set up. But the crowd didn’t stop cheering, and Alex made an executive decision: 

“Michael didn’t technically pick a song, so why don’t we do that new Taylor Swift we’ve been working on as an encore?” he asked. 

“Oh no, we don’t have to!” Michael said, eyes wide, while Rosa laughed at him. He didn’t pick for a _reason_ , but it was just like Alex to force exactly what he wanted on him. 

“I like that one, Michael,” Maria defended, though she saw that something was definitely going on between Alex and Michael that she didn’t need to take off her necklace of oppression to see. “Good idea, Alex. ‘Our Song,’ right?” 

Alex nodded, approximating the banjo finger-picking on his acoustic guitar as Maria picked up the rhythm chords on hers, and Rosa, with a sigh, climbed back behind her drum kit. 

The bassline was so easy as to be boring for Michael, but it was a fun song for everyone else: Alex _loved_ finger-picking, and it was right in Maria’s range for singing, and it was Michael’s current favorite song to listen to on the radio because the lyrics reminded him of Alex, who, incidentally, joined in on the chorus, and Michael did, too, sharing a microphone with him and harmonizing on instinct, though they hadn’t practiced this song much: 

“ _Our song is a slamming screen door,_ _  
__Sneaking out late tapping on your window,_  
 _When we're on the phone and you talk real slow,_ _  
'Cause it's late and your daddy don't know…”_

And it was just fine for country dancing, so all the cowboys and cowgirls in the high school swarmed the dance floor until it looked like a Bollywood film from their view up on the stage. He saw Liz beaming up at them, dancing with Max this time because Isobel had deigned to dance with Kyle. 

Michael was a rational alien who didn’t believe in magic. But this was magical. 

They finished their encore, the last notes disappearing into the cheers from the crowd, and Alex called a breathless _thank you_ into the mic as Maria and Michael dragged him off stage, all four of them laughing and shaking from it.

****  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Mythras_Fire for [drawing Rosa's drum art](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17463245/chapters/67970044)! 


	6. Chapter 6

After they got their equipment stored away as the DJ got himself set up, and by the time music was filling the hall again, Michael appeared at Alex’s side and held out his hand, palm up.

“I was going to wait and save you the last dance, but, well...I don’t want to wait,” Michael said with the smallest smile curling the side of his mouth.

“We better get while the getting’s good, you know, before your sisters steal you or my leg gives out,” Alex replied, his heart hammering. He tried for distraction: “And the football team is here, that’s all I care about. They heard me and Maria belting out ‘Jolene,’ so my night is already made.” 

Alex put his hand around Michael’s waist and then remembered Michael was the better dancer. 

“Oh my God, wait, who’s leading?!” he giggled. 

This wasn’t to say Alex couldn’t dance, but the fact that Michael was more susceptible to bullying from the Ortecho sisters, who were  _ amazing  _ dancers, meant that he got a lot of practice. But some Kid Rock song was playing, anyway, something that sampled “Sweet Home Alabama,” and most of the kids were country dancing, so it didn’t really fit with anyone putting their arm around anyone else. That was a shame. 

Laughing, Michael turned out of Alex’s grip so they were beside each other in the line. He winked and said, “Oh well, I guess I’ll just have to hold on to you for the next song, too.”

And when the next song started up slower—even if not a true slow dance song—Michael turned back in as close as he dared and slid a hand over Alex’s shoulder.

“You can lead,” he said. “You think Rosa never taught me to follow? I was easier to bribe into doing it than Liz was.”

“Typical Ortechos,” Alex said in Michael’s ear, leaning close to be heard over the music. “The women are in charge and the men are too nice for their own good. And I mean that in the best possible way.” 

Alex slid his hands closely but chastely around Michael’s hips, feeling him move under his palms. This song was in Spanish, too fast for Alex to follow what was being said even though the tempo was slow, but God, Michael looked dreamy, like it was speaking to his soul. 

There were chaperones watching, so Michael didn’t dare get any closer, press their bodies all together like he wanted. But oh God did he want. Alex felt so right in his arms, holding on to him, Michael never wanted to let him go. The rest of the student body was only a faint concern in the back of his mind as Alex’s hands tightened on his hips and Michael bit his lip, grateful for the inches between them.

The song came to an end, leaving them both panting.

“Want to go again?” Michael asked over the opening of the next.

"If you don't, Forrest will ask me to dance," Alex chuckled sheepishly, like it was an excuse, or a threat. "You're saving me the awkwardness." 

Alex regretted that phrasing immediately and he squeezed Michael closer, never mind the chaperones. If only he'd told Maria long ago about his crush on Michael. It might not have changed anything, since Michael was clearly happy just being friends with him. And he couldn't see Maria dating anyone better (except Rosa, but Maria was straight, so). "I'm also enjoying this."

“Forrest isn’t so bad,” Michael said. It was easy to be generous when Alex was in his arms and act like he wouldn’t turn into a pouting loser if he did have to watch Alex dance with that guy. “He seems like a good guy. But if he’s really bugging you...maybe we could pretend to date. Get him off your back.”

He smiled like the thought didn’t make his heart pound like it would burst right out of his chest. 

“Pretend to date, huh?” Alex asked, edging closer. “You’re not worried that’ll upset Maria?” 

“Easy, save room for Jesus, kids,” Rosa said, arriving in a red dress that matched Maria’s in all but color. “We’ve won enough Pride victories for one evening.” 

Michael and Alex pulled apart, both of them glowing as red as her dress and avoiding each other’s eyes.

“We were—”

“We were just—”

“Uh huh.” Rosa smirked at them. 

“Anyway, who are you cutting in on? This guy, or your extremely dashing brother?” Michael said, forcing a grin against the tension still vibrating like a guitar string between him and Alex.

“Come here, dweeb,” Rosa said, as Maria wrapped her arms around Alex’s neck. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll let you have Alex back. I need to plan it to make sure I get a slow dance with Maria,” Rosa said, leading Michael in a dance. “Don’t judge me. I know it won’t mean anything. Marcella will dance with me, she’s fun. But, uh, help me out first.” 

“How am I helping you out? Helping you show off your incredible moves?” He twirled her for emphasis, even though it wasn’t that kind of song, and he wasn’t supposed to be leading.

Alex and Maria were dancing beside them, a few feet over, wrapped in conversation with each other. The wheels in Michael’s brain spun on ways he could maybe move them so he and Alex bumped together, but even he wasn’t that desperate.

(Yes he was.)

“I  _ mean  _ when it’s a slow dance, I’m gonna shove you and Alex together and you’re gonna let me, so I can dance with Maria,” Rosa said, looking for all the world like she was pining, except Rosa Helena Ortecho did not  _ pine _ . “You know Maria wants you to be happy. You don’t have to wait on her account.” 

Michael shrugged sheepishly. “If I’m gonna convince Alex we can be more than friends, I want to do it right. He just got out of a relationship, too, I don’t want to...rush into it.” 

This had, he felt, been building for most of his life, all of his life he could remember outside the occasional nightmare. He couldn’t mess it up.

"Seriously, a Manes and a Long?" Rosa scoffed, then looked serious. "Oh God no, you're right. It'd be  _ just like  _ the nobility of this town to match their black sheep sons together."

When Michael looked like he was taking this extended metaphor vaguely seriously, Rosa smacked the back of his head. "Michael! Forrest was seriously a fling because Alex was hung up on you! Alex has been obsessed with you since you guys were eleven. You've been friends for years, you might as well try adding nookie to it."

“He has not been  _ obsessed  _ with me. I think I would know,” Michael said mulishly. Obviously he would know, because he’d made a very detailed study of Alex over the years, and he would have noticed if Alex had been doing the same to him. “Anyway, you and Maria have been friends even longer than Alex and I have, what’s your excuse?”

“Well, she’s straight,” Rosa snapped, and slugged him in the arm. “You know, I hoped you and her would work out because you’re the only dude in this town who isn’t complete trash or 100% gay. Even if you are an idiot. I guess there’s still time if you and Alex aren’t ever gonna make a move.”

Rosa jabbed him in the ribs hard enough to make him sway to one side, just enough for him to bump hips with Alex. Alex looked up at him and Michael bit his lip, winked to cover up how flustered he was, and told himself he absolutely, under no circumstances, would lean down to steal a kiss off Alex’s soft-looking mouth.

He and Rosa turned away from Alex and Maria, and Michael turned his attention back to Rosa.

“I mean...have you asked her? If she’s straight? I’ve never talked to her about it.”

"I mean  _ no _ , but isn't it obvious?" Rosa asked, and then frowned. "Look, don't question your older sister who loves you and knows where you sleep."

The beat slowed somewhat, and then the song changed, and, "Ha!" Rosa said. "Nick Cave! Classic queer anthem! I'm going to launch you into Alex, okay, hold on!"

"W-wait, what—aahh!"

“Oof!”

Alex’s breath wooshed out of him as he caught Michael in his arms and straightened him up, tugging his shirt back into place, straightening his bolo tie. He didn’t look up at him, though, until gentle fingers curled around his wrist.

“Hey,” Alex said breathlessly. Couples swayed all around them.

“Hey,” Michael responded. “Come here often?”

“Rosa is a psycho. You are not a weapon! What the fuck,” Alex said, once he was sure Michael was okay. “She could have knocked me off balance and killed me.” 

“I’m fine, you’re fine, she was just making a point,” Michael laughed, tightening his arm around Alex’s waist. “You can avenge us later. For now...is it my turn to lead?”

Alex smirked, anger dissipating into something a little breathless, shaky, timid. “Well.  _ Lead _ , then, Ortecho.” 

“Following is harder,” Michael said, moving them slowly in a circle, each step deliberate so Alex could keep up. “It’s all the same steps but backwards. You’ve never backed down from a challenge, though.”

“Not when you’re leading,” Alex said, and his voice didn’t tremble that time. It was easy to follow Michael’s steps. He almost felt like Michael was telegraphing the movements directly into his brain, like his alien power was telepathy. Alex felt an indescribable closeness sometimes, like when they played or sang together. Or looked at the stars. 

Man, he had it bad. He was imagining things, now. 

Michael, meanwhile—was it adrenaline from performing? Was it fear of some shitty retaliation coming their way, was it excitement that he finally had Alex in his arms, that them, together, suddenly felt _ possible  _ in a way it never had before, not when they were stupid babies out in the desert at night, not when they were kids taking their first stumbling steps into puberty? Whatever it was, Michael felt almost high, floating and loose and free. A song only lasted about three and a half minutes, but Michael could stay in that tiny slice of time forever. He let his head fall forward to rest against Alex’s, completing the bubble around them, their own little world.

“C-can we—?” Alex was about to ask, before eternity ended and the song rhythm picked up. He silently cursed Beyoncé, even if that was sacrilegious, and mentally swore never to cover one of her songs again. 

Then Liz, Max and Isobel ran up, laughing, to hug Michael and Alex and tell them they loved the performance. 

Kyle hung vaguely in the background behind Isobel and Liz, using them as a shield. And if Liz was going to steal Michael for a dance, well, yeah, Alex did want to talk to Kyle. 

_ Can we what? Can we what???  _

The answer was  _ yes  _ and Michael wanted to scream it from the rooftops. It didn’t even matter what the question was, it was Alex, so the answer was yes, a thousand times.

...Unless he was going to ask if they could forget this ever happened.

Suddenly terrified, Michael looked back over his shoulder to find Alex, to catch his eye, only for Liz to laugh and pinch his shoulder, pulling his attention back.

“He’s not going to turn into a pumpkin. You can spare one dance for your sister; you already danced with Rosa, and she doesn’t even go here. I might get jealous.”

Michael stayed tense for a second, then relaxed and picked up the beat. “You’re right, you’re right, I’m sorry,” he said.

Liz bit her lip, a little sister teasing for information (though they were pretty sure they were the same age, and Michael was technically younger by a few months, Liz worked the littlest sibling angle very well). “Did you ask him, or did he ask you? You two are  _ so  _ cute together. You can totally date  _ all  _ my best friends.” 

“We’re not _ dating, _ ” Michael bemoaned, “Alex just wanted to dance with a guy to drive the point home, and dancing with Forrest felt like leading the poor guy on…”

"Oh, Forrest  _ is _ such a nice guy, that's true..." Liz said, just to see Michael immediately start sulking. "Oh my God, you are jealous! Want me to ask Alex out for you?"

“No! Just because you have impeccable taste in friends—and brothers—doesn’t mean you get to meddle in their love lives.  _ If  _ Alex is interested in me...and that’s a big  _ if... _ I’ll figure out a way, okay?”

Liz stepped on his foot. And it definitely  _ wasn’t  _ a mistake in her footwork.

“Don’t take forever,” she said imperiously. “If you and Rosa don’t wear Papi down about dating before we’re sixty-five all that hard work is going to be on me, and I’ve got better things to do  _ and _ am less interested in dating than you two!” 

Meanwhile, Kyle tried to dodge Alex, but now Isobel was dancing with Max, so he just stood there like a jackass. “Hey, uh. Your band’s pretty good.” 

Alex raised one eyebrow at the DJ and then back at Kyle. “Is being passive-aggressive your new thing, or…? I don’t expect you to like my gay garage band musical stylings, Valenti. Though if the Taylor Swift won you over, I’m not exactly shocked.”

Kyle bore the brunt of Alex’s wrath impassively, knowing he deserved it. It took him long enough to start treating him decently, so Alex could take his time. He shoved his hands in his pockets. “Who doesn’t like Taylor Swift, man? It was a good set list.” 

Alex relented just a little bit, backing off and copying Kyle’s body language, half-turned away, hands in pockets. “So have you been, uh, okay? Anyone giving you shit?”

"No more than you got. I can handle it," Kyle defended. Then he looked up, startled. "Not that, uh, not that you  _ couldn't _ ...I didn't mean it like that!"

Alex rolled his eyes and groaned, but he was smiling, too. “Fuck, you’re gonna overcompensate so hard now, aren’t you. I get it, okay? I can’t exactly say ‘no hard feelings,’ but...water’s under the bridge, right?”

"Well I hope we can salvage what time we have left and, ah, be friends again, maybe. Before we graduate," Kyle said, shouting over the music and not caring who heard. He now maybe understood, not why his dad cheated on his mom, but the capacity for his past self to be a total and utter fucking moron, and how horrible it felt, and how much he wanted to do and be better for the people he cared about. "Let me know if, uh, if there's anything you need. I don't think I'll have many social obligations the rest of this...year…"

Alex softened a little bit at that. If Kyle was for real, what harm could it do to give him a shot at redemption? Alex had true friends all around him; if Kyle turned out to be false even on his second chance, it wouldn’t hurt like it did last time.

“Let’s shake on it,” he said, holding out his hand. Might as well test him a little bit—if he still got weird about touching the gay guy, well, that would be an answer right there.

Kyle didn’t hesitate, just smiled like a big dumb puppy and grabbed Alex’s hand with both hands before pulling him into a thoroughly bro-ish hug. 

“ _ Oof, _ ” Alex said, but he slapped Kyle on the back anyway.

“Mind if I cut in?” an amused voice said over Alex’s shoulder, and at the way Kyle’s face flamed, he turned to see Liz grinning with a hand on her hip. Alex looked up to see Michael at the punch bowl, nodding along as Forrest talked.

Kyle backed off instinctively, but she turned a smile on him.

“I do mean you, Kyle. Alex needs to save Michael from Forrest,” she said. “You’re a much better dancer than Max.” 

Kyle perked up at that, and Alex chuckled. “He just figured out how to be a decent person, like, three days ago. Don’t reward him yet.”

“I consider myself already rewarded,” Kyle said, nodding at Alex. 

“Stop, stop, I’m already swooning,” Alex said with a smirk, leaving them to their dance.

The night was winding down. Some people had already left, slinking away from the watchful eyes of the chaperones, off to backseats in dark corners of the parking lot or off to bedrooms in houses where parents weren’t home. Alex and Michael had danced so much of the night, but Alex wanted more, wanted that last dance, and everything it meant.

“Alex!” Michael said breathlessly as he approached.

“Hey, Michael. Hey, Forrest,” Alex said, realizing with a wince that he had promised Forrest a dance, still. Maybe he should have hidden. “Are you guys nerding out about New Mexico History, again?”

Forrest beamed, straightening his bowtie. “I think if Michael’s got the cultural and scientific history part, and I handle the political and military history parts, we could write a book together about the twentieth century.” 

And of course Forrest wasn’t pushy, he wouldn’t push, he probably wouldn’t even ask—God, why couldn’t Alex fall in love with someone  _ assertive _ someday?—he was completely unlike the rest of his family, and Alex owed him one dance… 

“Forrest, I owed you a dance, right?” Luckily the music was something upbeat right now. 

“Oh, yeah! If you still want to,” Forrest said. “You don’t  _ owe  _ anybody anything.”

He’d be smarmy if he weren’t so goddamn earnest about everything. Even Michael’s poorly-concealed eyeroll was a little fond. 

"No, I’m sorry. I meant I'm all about the political choices tonight. It'll help your campaign for GSA President next year," Alex teased, taking his arm and leading him to the dance floor. 

Max wandered up to Michael with a sigh. "Liz is dancing with Kyle again. He’s objectively a better dancer than me. Do you think you could give me dancing lessons?"

Michael snorted—but sympathetically—and handed Max a cup of punch. “Ask Rosa. Say it’s for a good cause; Rosa’s weirded out by the idea of Kyle and Liz dating.”

“That’s fair,” Max said with huge eyes and a thousand-yard stare. Then he looked at Michael. “It’s not—you’re not weirded out if me and Liz…” 

“Nah, man. Be pretty hypocritical of me after dating Maria and all. We’re all in this game of incest chicken together.”

Max chuckled. “Gross, man. Hey, I haven’t even seen Rosa since you guys got offstage...and I thought Maria loved dancing—but I don’t see her, either. They make other plans?” 

Michael shrugged. “They both stuck around for a little bit, but they must have gone off somewhere. Maybe Rosa’s rebelling by going to,” he gasped dramatically, “ _ Waffle House  _ as a post-dance dinner, and Maria’s aiding and abetting. Papi will be crushed.”

Max clutched his chest. “I mean, Waffle House is where you go if you hate yourself. The Crashdown is for all other times.” 

“You’ve already got the son-in-law lines down, I see,” Michael laughed. “Dad’s gonna love that one.” 

“Man, c’mon,” Max complained, laughing along.

Isobel swooped in on Kyle as the song ended, partially to be a good sister, partially because Max’s pining was honestly annoying, partially because even a disgraced quarterback still offered considerable social clout, and partially because Kyle Valenti was objectively very cute. Isobel had a complicated inner life.

“I think getting detention for fighting brought us together in a really sweet way, don’t you think?” Isobel asked, winding her arms around his neck. 

“Uhh—”

“I’ve been waiting for you to stop being a douche to my brother’s best friend for, like, years at this point,” she continued. “I was hoping either you’d grow up or grow a hideous mustache so I wouldn’t have to think you were cute. I’m glad you chose Option A.” 

Shame shifted uncomfortably in the pit of Kyle’s stomach. Even seeing Alex take a bullet for his father hadn’t been enough, not for three long years. Maybe he  _ should  _ grow an ugly mustache anyway as penance. 

But Isobel Evans had her arms around his neck, and her face was so close to his, her long eyelashes fluttering past the danger in her sharp green eyes. She smelled so good, like the rosewater his abuela made, but  _ more,  _ like fresh flowers after a rainstorm, a thought so sappy it made Kyle blush. 

He slid his hand up her waist and pulled her a little closer as the next song started.

“I’m a slow learner about a lot of things, but dancing isn’t one of them,” he said with a charming grin.

"I can see that," Isobel said, catching Max's eye and communicating with him telepathically that for purely unselfish reasons having nothing to do with the fact that Kyle was definitely marriage material, she would be dancing with Kyle the rest of the night so if Max wanted to make a move on Liz he should feel free to do so. 

She would have laughed at how he immediately abandoned Michael by the punch to pursue Liz if it wasn’t so hopelessly on brand. 

“So, Mr. Valenti, now that your social life has taken such an unexpected turn...tell me a little bit about your plans for the future. If this sounds like an interrogation, let me make it clear—” she leaned in to whisper in his ear and grinned like a shark when she felt his shoulders tighten, “It  _ absolutely _ is.”

Kyle coughed. “Um. Well…” 

For most of his life, he thought he’d be a cop. Like his mother, like his father, like his grandfathers. One didn’t pass up a legacy like that lightly. But after what he’d seen three years ago, after what he’d learned that legacy had lurking beneath it, after he saw Alex bleeding and everyone crying and so many people needing help…

It was hard to talk about. Even his parents didn’t really know what he’d put on his applications. He’d always been good at science, he had the grades, he had the extracurriculars, he had the references, but...it still felt stupid. Such a diversion from the path everyone expected for him. 

“...I’m on the waitlist for a few pretty choice pre-med programs,” he said, voice level. “So it’s all a bit up in the air for now.”

“Ooh, a  _ doctor _ ,” Isobel purred. “I see I’m going to have to beat the other girls off with a stick. What are you doing for the next, say, forever?” 

The way she came on was just heavy-handed enough to be predatory, and just playful enough to be something they could laugh off if they wanted to. Her smile was an invitation: a joke if he wanted to say no, or prepared to be the girl of his dreams, whatever those dreams were, if he wanted to say yes. 

“Moving to Michigan, hopefully,” Kyle said. “I mean, I could be in the market for a friend halfway across the country, if you’re game. I don’t know what your plans are.”

“Michigan, huh?” Isobel mused, like she was thinking about it, instead of immediately asking University of Michigan or Michigan State? “I’ll have to ask my mother. Her very generous college fund has some unfortunate side effects, like the very small pool of majors that are ‘appropriate’ for young ladies, and none of them include flexing my alien mind powers.”

“...Why don’t you flex your alien mind powers  _ on  _ your mom to let you major in whatever you want?” Kyle suggested, only vaguely weirded out by this semi-revelation. 

Isobel cocked her head. Her grades definitely weren’t good enough for a college scholarship, but Isobel was very good at arguing… 

“I think pre-law isn’t ladylike enough for her. What do you think?” 

“Isn’t your dad a lawyer?” 

“You know what? You’re right,” Isobel said. “I think we make a great team.”

Michael watched his sister dance with Valenti and wished the guy a silent good luck. Across the room, Max and Liz occupied the center of the dwindling dance floor, and a tired-looking Liz sighed and rested her head on Max’s chest as Max blinked owlishly and tried not to make any sudden movements. Alex and Forrest separated as the song ended, and Forrest swung into a dramatic bow, making Alex laugh and Michael take another irritated swig of punch. 

Rosa and Maria were still nowhere to be seen, and Michael wished Rosa a silent good luck too, wherever she was.

Alex appeared suddenly beside Michael, gulping water. “Should we blow this popsicle stand and make sure our sisters aren’t getting into the bad kind of trouble together?” He paused to grin at the dancers, then added, “Well, Liz and Isobel seem to be doing okay.” 

There were a number of reasons Michael might want to leave a dance early with Alex, and their family factored into exactly none of them, but Michael offered his arm anyway. “Sure, let’s head out. Rosa might be hoping for a little privacy with Maria, but if I respected that I wouldn’t be a very good little brother.”

"Ha," Alex said. "You know, we gotta haul the band stuff back to my garage, too. You wanna go pull your truck around?"

If Alex patted him on the ass to send him out the front door to the parking lot, it was definitely an accident. 


	7. Chapter 7

Rosa blew a thin stream of smoke up at the stars. It was the wrong season for Pisces, but that was alright. She’d picked up plenty of other constellations from Michael over the years. She passed the joint back to Maria, making sure their fingers brushed in the process.

“You have a good night?” she asked, snuggling closer.

Maria and Rosa were sharing a jacket, wrecking their nice dresses, and smoking one (1) joint together in celebration of the evening, so Maria was having the time of her life. She had an extra little surprise, a mostly-empty bottle of tequila her mom wouldn't miss (Alex might; she'd have to bribe him for his silence somehow), and she passed that to Rosa first. It wasn't enough to be dangerous, just enough to be a little fun. Her mom worked at a bar, and she waited there on weekends sometimes, so she knew the line. 

"I did," Maria said, inhaling slowly and holding it in. She was always a giggler with pot, but she didn't want to seem dumb or immature in front of Rosa, so she held back. "Great time. I love singing. And I love being with you guys. Do you think we could follow Michael and Alex to Albuquerque? Continue the band even if they're in school?"

Rosa pulled a marker out of the jacket pocket and began doodling on her hand while Maria finished off the joint. The nervous habit was better than watching the way Maria’s lips formed around the cigarette, the way the moonlight struck her cheeks and nose and forehead. Her leg, her hip, her body was warm against Rosa’s through two layers of night-cold satin. 

“Are you not doing school, then?” Rosa asked.

“I figured I’d make some money first,” Maria said, after holding her breath on it for a moment. She shrugged. “Maybe an associate’s in business. I’m not interested in studying more than I am in money, Rosa, you know that.” 

Maria tucked her head against Rosa’s shoulder, sighing. “ _ You _ need to be in art school, my dear.” 

Rosa flinched at that. She’d always done this, gotten all maudlin after too much happiness in too short a time. It wasn’t the weed or the tequila, just her brain playing tricks on her.

It should have been enough that Maria never turned on her, never stopped talking to her and touching her the way friends did. Rosa should be content with that.

But it wasn’t.  _ She  _ wasn’t. 

But that wasn’t Maria’s fault, so Rosa smiled and kept her voice light. “Babe, I don’t know what they could teach me I don’t already know.”

“Of course not  _ to learn _ . It’s the contacts you make. The shows you get to go to for free. The networking. The hustle! I know it’s not art in its purest form, but until the socialist revolution you gotta play by capitalist rules.” Maria turned to kiss Rosa’s cheek, the tequila and weed making her...familiar. 

Too much. It was too much. Rosa stood before Maria’s lips touched her skin, pacing a few feet away, leaving a gap in the jacket for cold air to get in. Maria frowned and clutched it around herself.

“Wow, babe, you are wasted. I’m surprised you can’t hold your booze better by now,” Rosa said, striving for teasing.

Maria’s frown became a pout. “Rosa. Get back here. It’s cold! And I’m not finishing these on my own.” 

Rosa shook her head. “I’m not cold. Hey, we should go back inside. I want to dance. Alex and Michael got to dance. Marcella will dance with me.”

“I’ll dance with you!” Maria said, standing up, swaying. She turned and dumped the tequila, and tossed the joint on the ground. “Let’s dance!”

Rapidly, Rosa’s eyes filled with tears. Of course she wanted that, but... 

“Maria, no, hey. It’s okay, it’s just—it’s just....I just want to dance with someone who l-likes me. Who _ like _ -likes me. Or at least someone who could. Like me that way. I love dancing with you, but right now, I just need...” Her throat was too thick to keep talking, then.

Maria’s eyes went wide. She was either too drunk for this, or not drunk enough. 

“Rosa!” she said, struck dumb. This was at once a dream come true and her worst nightmare. Rosa...liked her?  _ Like _ -liked her? Wanted her to like-like her back? “Oh my God, Rosa. I am, like, incredibly way too high for this. Just—just dance with me. For now. Please?” 

. But Rosa just shook her head, feeling vaguely nauseous in a way weed had never made her feel before. “Nah, it’s…it’s okay. I... I don’t think I feel like dancing anymore.”

“Rosa,” Maria said, reaching out with grabby hands only to fall short. Rosa crept an inch closer to let Maria grab her jacket, so it wasn’t totally a lost cause. Maria said, “Then we don’t have to. Just stay out here. With me. I like you. You’re my...best friend.”

It sounded lame, but it was all Maria had, her mind swirling and her tongue useless in her mouth.

“I love you. I’ve wanted to be like you from the day we met, Rosa Ortecho.” 

“Yeah, that was what I was afraid of,” Rosa said miserably, and the tears were back, streaming down her face now. “I didn’t want you to know. Not right now, not like this.”

“Hey, hey,” Maria said, growing tender. She stepped closer, holding Rosa’s arms, taking her hands. “Am I allowed to say I don’t know? I know I love you, and I know you love me. And I know boys are—are fucking dumb—” 

Well, what  _ did  _ stand in her way, then? It wasn’t like she hadn’t just got in a fight for gay rights or anything. 

She hugged Rosa, before she could escape. “You know Alex and I kissed, right? Before he figured out he wasn’t straight? And—Michael is a goner for Alex, and don't get me started on Chad Trujillo...look, maybe I’m a little worried if you kiss me, you’ll find out you don’t like me, after all, either,” she admitted. “Like everyone else did.” 

Rosa’s arms felt heavy, but she fought against them to hug Maria back. “Of course you’re allowed to not know. I wasn’t trying to—to pressure you into being someone you’re not. As long as you still want to make music with me, and, and dance crazy in the kitchen, and all that stuff, I’m  _ fine,  _ okay? I’m fine.” She kissed Maria on the forehead. “Just...I might also want to dance with some other people, okay? While you’re figuring it out.”

"You're definitely not allowed to drink or smoke without me, though," Maria replied immediately, her concern for Rosa's safety overriding anything else. Then Maria's lip wobbled, her throat tightening. "Whatever you want to think, no one loves you like I do."

Rosa rubbed Maria’s upper arms, gone chilly in the night air. “That’s because you’re the best, okay? No matter what you decide, you’re not gonna lose me. I love you too, no matter what. And I’ll be safe. I promised you and Liz and Papi.”

"Not Rosa-safe," Maria said, an old joke, but it felt childish now. Like they were too old for it. Especially since she knew Rosa wasn't really listening to her. Ugh, trying to fall in love with people when you could feel their  _ true _ emotions was rough. Maybe her mom had it right, staying perpetually single, counting on no one but herself. 

“Safe-safe,” Rosa agreed. 

"Come dance with me," Maria asked a final time, throat tight.

Rosa took her hand and squeezed it. “Okay. Let’s go dance.”

* * *

“Is that the last of it?” Alex asked, as Michael came back into the warm garage carrying a few cords. Alex was putting Rosa’s drum kit back together, careful of the artwork that had actually survived the performance as well as the transportation back to the DeLuca garage. Alex suspected Michael had used his powers to make sure it hadn’t been jostled, but he couldn’t be sure. 

“Yep, everything checks out,” Michael said, winding the cords and stashing them away. He had the clipboard with their equipment list floating beside him along with a pen that checked off the last item. Show-off.

“You shouldn’t do that, you know,” Alex grinned, swiping the clipboard from the air and holding it out of Michael’s reach. “Even if my dad’s dead and Project Shepherd is defunct, someone else could still see you and decide you’re a Satanist or something.” 

“Chill, man, there’s no one here but us,” Micheel said. A wave of warmth swept through him at his own words. The garage was plenty big, but suddenly it seemed small, intimate, like the walls themselves wanted him to step closer to Alex, until they were touching.

“When’s your curfew? Are you picking Liz and Rosa up?” Alex asked, just a little breathless, a little hopeful. He didn’t know where Maria was, he should probably figure that out, see if she needed a ride, but suddenly there wasn’t a lot of air in here. 

“Nah, Rosa drove separate,” Michael said, clearing his throat. “Technically curfew’s at 1, but…”

“But?” Alex repeated. He hadn’t felt this dumbstruck in a while. His heart was pounding so hard it almost felt like it wanted to jump out of his chest and into Michael’s. “Wha—uh, what time is it now?” 

“Almost midnight.” 

Michael took a step toward Alex.

“I had a really good time tonight,” he said. Alex’s eyes were so big and dark ringed with dramatic makeup, and they widened more the closer Michael got, and Michael was drawn in as if by magnets.

“Me, too. God, I love playing music with you guys. I love—” Alex stepped a little closer, against his better judgment, “being with you.”

Michael wasn’t thinking, wasn’t even breathing, as he took another step and raised his hand to brush his thumb across Alex’s cheekbone. Alex blinked up at him, lips slightly parted, the world frozen around them.

Until the moment was shattered by the shrill ring of Alex’s cell phone.

"God  _ fucking _ damn it," Alex swore, the moment broken. He answered the phone. "Mimi, I'm supposed to be having the night of my life and you're ruining it."

"Just use condoms, sweetie," she said, effectively ruining any interest Alex had in sex for the evening. 

"Ugh," Alex laughed. "You need something? Everything okay?"

“Mm, just checking in. You guys get home okay?”

Michael stepped aside, rubbing his chest over his pounding heart, adrenaline flooding his veins. Fuck, so close. So fucking close! How did it even—did Alex...was it possible? Did he have a chance?”

“Yeah, Mimi, Michael and I just brought all the stuff back. Maria’s out with Rosa still. I was gonna call her before I turn in.” Alex turned away from Michael just so he could  _ breathe _ . 

“No worries, kiddo, just picking Maria up and we’re heading home. Got off work a little early.” 

Alex frowned. That was...kind of unusual. He sort of assumed parents and people of legal drinking age would keep the Wild Pony hopping on a night like tonight. But whatever. 

“Oh, okay, great. She didn’t want to stay later…?”

“Guess not. Here she comes, you want to talk to her?” 

“No, I’ll see you in a few.”

Alex hung up and turned back around, biting his lip. “Uh, so, they’re gonna be home soon.” 

Michael just burst out into helpless giggles. What should he say? ‘That was close’? ‘Wanna make out’? He was pretty sure, at least, that Alex didn’t want him to apologize for crossing a line.

“What’re we doing, Alex?” He said instead. If he let Alex lead, he couldn’t ruin their friendship.

Alex took a breath. “We’re, uh—” he gulped, stepping closer again. He leaned in, reached out, and stopped. “Michael, I—I care about you. I want to, um. I want to be good to you. I just want to make sure I make it right, first.” 

Heart in his throat, Michael grabbed Alex’s hand, twined their fingers together. “Make what right? Alex, you’re perfect. I even talked to Maria before we danced together to make sure she wouldn’t be hurt, i-if we both want to, we could try…”

Alex was breathing heavily, near panic. This was too big, too much for him. He didn’t do well with feelings of any size, and Michael made him feel all of them dialed up to eleven. He had to back off or he was going to screw this up. 

“It’s...just not the right time, Michael. We need more time. I need to fix what my dad did to your mom, and we need to make sure everyone else is okay, first. Maria and—and I don’t know what I’m doing for college yet and I’m not going to hold you back.” 

Alex squeezed Michael’s hands. He wanted to say  _ I love you _ —he felt it as easy as breathing, as easy as knowing the stars were there even when you couldn’t see them. But if that messed Michael up, Alex would never forgive himself. He tried for a joke. “Also, I mean, aren’t you not allowed to date until you’re forty, or something?” 

Michael shook his head, curls bobbing frantically. “I don’t care what my dad says, Alex, I—”  _ Love you.  _ But he couldn’t say it, not now, not with that much conflict evident on Alex’s face. He shook his head again and yanked Alex into a hug, clenching the back of Alex’s jacket in his fist. “You don’t have to fix anything. You’re amazing just the way you are. You could  _ never _ hold me back.”

Was he coming on too strong? Probably. But if he didn’t say these things they’d just get bigger and bigger inside him until he exploded.

But Alex pulled away from him then, shaking his head. “You don’t understand. I barely understand. It’s too...”

And when Michael reached for him again, they both flinched at the sound of the door opening and Mimi calling Alex’s name.

“In the garage!” Alex called. What kind of clown was he that he was relieved that Mimi and Maria were home? It wasn’t that he didn’t know what to  _ do  _ with Michael as he didn’t know what to do with all of these...feelings. Everything he was and is needed careful examination before he brought Michael into it. 

Michael wet his numb lips. “I should. I mean. I’ll go, if you want me to?”

“No, stay, please,” Alex said, licking his own lips, imagining it was Michael’s tongue. “I always want you to stay.  _ I love you _ . I’ve always loved you. It’s just not right yet.” 

Could a heart break and soar at the same time? Michael wanted to laugh like this was the best day of his life and cry like the world was ending.

“ _ Why?  _ You’re right, I don’t understand! I love you too, Alex, I’ve loved you for seven years, what’s not right about it?”

Before Alex could answer, Maria bounced into the garage, a little clumsily like she had been drinking or else on her high heels too long. 

“Were you guys making out?” she teased. “Mama’s making popcorn, you guys want some?” 

“Maria, we were—” Alex began, then sighed. He hooked an arm under Michael’s elbow, not in a rough hold, but just putting his hand there. “Sure, let’s go. Can you stay, Michael? Will you?” 

Michael took a deep breath, glancing at Maria briefly and then away before his face gave too much away. Staring at his shoes, he took a deep breath and let it out slowly, then looked up with a small smile.

“I’m staying. Until you want me to go.”

Alex squeezed his arm, and smiled, and they went in for popcorn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dont worry, everything will be okay for the dumb kiddos <3


	8. Chapter 8

Mimi smiled when the boys came in through the kitchen. She _looked_ tired, exhausted. Alex chewed on his lip as he watched her at the stove. He should really do more around the house to help her out—she worked too much, and the trust from his dad’s estate didn’t pay all that much beyond keeping the car he and Maria drove insured.

“Well, don’t you boys look handsome?” she teased. “The days of _Harry Potter_ footie pajamas are ancient history.” She pretended to wipe away a tear as Maria snickered.

“I’ve never had footie pajamas!” Michael protested, but it just made them laugh harder.

Mimi focused back on the stovetop popcorn and said, absentmindedly, “Oh, Jesse, why don’t you get the butter down from the fridge?” 

Alex, who had gone to do just that, jerked back from the refrigerator as if he’d been bit. He was so dumbfounded he couldn’t speak for a moment. 

“Mama,” Maria corrected, laughing a little, but obviously worried. “That’s _Alex_.” 

Michael gently put a hand on Alex’s waist, a warm weight that helped to ground him in the present. 

Mimi shook her head and put her hand on her temple. “Oh. Oh! Alex, baby, I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me.”

“It’s fine, I get it. I look just like him,” Alex said with a tight smile. Michael’s hand tightened on his waist, thumb stroking him, trying to comfort him. “You doing okay, Mimi?” 

“Just tired, baby.” 

“Let me get the popcorn,” all three of them offered immediately. 

“Michael can handle the popcorn, Mama,” Maria laughed, guiding her mom to a chair as Michael readily stepped in to shake the popcorn over the stove. “Why don’t you take a load off?” 

Alex knelt to help Mimi with her shoes, though she protested and laughed. “You kids don’t have to take care of me! I’m still supposed to be taking care of you!”

“You don’t have to worry about _us_ , Ma. Even when we _try_ to get in trouble, it doesn’t work,” Maria said. Something in the way she said it was angry, or accusing, or bitter. Maybe teasing? Alex would have to parse it later, or ask her about it. 

“Mimi, why’d you come home early tonight?” Alex pressed. 

“It’s my job to worry about you kids. You’re just gonna have to deal with it,” Mimi said, stroking Maria’s cheek first and then Alex’s. “I’m just a little tired. Spacey. Deana’s covering for me.”

“Mom,” Maria scolded, seeming inordinately annoyed to learn this. 

Mimi’s reaction, too, surprised the boys, as she said sharply, “Conversation over.” Then she blinked, and smiled, like she _had_ just deleted the conversation from her brain. “How was the dance? How’d the concert go?” 

Alex’s brow furrowed as he looked between the DeLucas. He’d been living with them for three years, and this...wasn’t normal. “Uh, it was, ah. Fine. Great. Did an encore, even.” 

“That’s amazing. I’m so proud of all of you.”

Michael came into the room with the bowl of popcorn, and Mimi smiled at him too.

“Are you staying the night, Michael?”

“Uh.” He looked from Alex to Maria, who looked like she’d been crying and might start again, and he said, “If nobody’s got any objections, I might. I was gonna call my dad.”

“It’s maybe a bit late for you to be driving around on a school night,” Mimi suggested. “You want me to call him?” 

No one mentioned that it _wasn’t_ a school night. Maria was clenching her jaw so hard she looked ready to crack a tooth. 

Alex coughed. “Thanks for finishing the popcorn, Michael. I think we’d like you to stay.” 

“Right, um, no problem. Thanks for the offer, Mimi, I’m just gonna go call him. I’ll be right back.”

“You should go on to bed, Mama,” Maria said.

“You know, I think—maybe I should,” Mimi said, standing carefully. “You share with me, and Michael can have your bed.” 

Maria thanked God that her mother at least remembered she and Michael weren’t dating anymore. _Jesus_. 

“Sounds good, Mama. I’ll be in in a minute.” 

“No rush, baby. You kids have fun,” Mimi hummed, and wandered off. 

Maria’s fake smile crumbled the moment she was gone, and she wilted, putting her head in her hands. 

Michael was in the other room calling Arturo, so Alex slid next to her and put an arm around her. “Maria, what the fuck was that? What’s going on with Mimi?” 

“I don’t even know where to start,” Maria whispered, pressing the heels of her hands against her forehead. “Fuck this night.”

Michael came back into the room and sat down on Maria’s other side, exchanging a worried look with Alex.

“A few years ago, I started having these dreams. Nightmares. They felt so real, and sometimes they were. But the other day...I had one while I was awake. I saw what was going to happen to Kyle before it happened, that’s how I knew what we had to do to help him.”

“Maria, what…?”

“Mom can do it too. And so could my grandmother. Maybe it’s a, uh, alien thing. But according to Mom, there’s a...cost. It hurts us. Eats our brains or—or something. Eventually, Grandma lost herself completely, I always thought it was dementia, but…” She pulled the necklace out and held it in her palm. “Mom says this protects us. When I had the vision about Kyle, she _made_ me take it. And I don’t want to rot my brain, but—but I should have given it back! She clearly needs it more than me.”

"So the psychic thing is more than just...a con?" Alex wondered, but he shook his head and waved away any answer: he didn't care about an answer to that as much as what to do about the problem. "Never mind. You clearly both need one of these. The necklace protects you? How? Is it the metal? Could we break off a section to make a bracelet for Mimi, too? Where do we get another?"

Maria sniffled, trying to keep her mascara from running. "Mom thinks it's the...flower? Maybe it's the artist. I think it's Navajo."

Alex passed it to Michael to take a look at. "I can call Greg, have him and Flint keep an eye out for the artist."

Michael ran his thumb over the glass teardrop that held the flower. “I’ve seen this, I’ve seen this before. I can’t remember where, but…” He glanced up at Maria, a crease between his eyebrows. “This is an alien thing, isn’t it. Aliens hurt your family somehow. I’ll...I’m going to find a way to make this right, Maria, I promise.”

"Michael, this isn't _your_ fault." Alex did not recognize this as hypocritical, though Maria laughed. 

"Of _course_ this would be an alien thing with you two. I tried looking the flower up, but I don't know. I need you to help me convince my mom to wear this instead of me in the meantime." Maria pressed her lips together and glanced at Michael. "You think Isobel could do that?"

“I think she _could,_ but Maria, I don’t know...wouldn’t it be wrong to invade her privacy like that?” But he bit his lip remembering how...off Mimi had seemed. He wanted to throw himself between Maria and Alex and anything in the world that might hurt them. “I’ll...I’ll ask her.”

“It’s fine, I’ll ask her,” Maria sighed, rubbing her eyes for real this time, smearing her make-up. “There’s sort of very few ethical applications for psychic influencing, but making someone take their medicine has got to be one.” 

And then everything tonight just got to be too much, and Maria burst into tears. 

“Ah, shit, Maria,” Alex said, pulling her into a hug. Michael came around and hugged her from the other side. “It’s okay, babe. We’re gonna figure this out. Me and Michael are gonna keep you and Mimi safe.” 

Alex looked at Michael over the top of Maria’s head. “Maybe we should all just go to bed. We’ve dealt with a lot. Michael, you staying?” 

“I’m staying,” Michael confirmed, wrapping his arm around Maria’s shoulders and pulling her close. Just because they weren’t dating anymore didn’t mean he loved her any less, the girl who pulled him out of a crowd his very first night in Roswell and brought him into her orbit. He would do anything for her.

“Let’s pull the couch out. No one should have to be alone tonight,” Michael said.

Maria balked briefly. She was a DeLuca, and all the women of her family were used to being their own saviors. But—being saved sounded nice, too. 

She nodded. “Okay.” 

Michael did most of the work, quickly unfolding the sofa bed, using his powers to grab sheets and pillows from the hall closet. All three of them collapsed onto it (the bed made an ominous creak, but oh well), and Michael used his powers to turn the lights off. If Michael had let himself think about sharing the night with Alex, this wasn’t what he’d imagined. But still, he was glad to be able to comfort Maria, and stayed awake until he was sure she was sleeping.

* * *

Arturo waited up for the girls and Michael to come home. He didn’t have to; in fact, he expected many protests from Rosa in particular, that she wasn’t a little girl anymore, that she didn’t need him to watch for her. And yet he watched anyway, just because he wanted to.

He nursed a book and a cup of hot cocoa, enhanced with a little tequila rose, as he waited, dressed in a nice, warm new robe Rosa and Liz got him last Christmas and a pair of fuzzy gray alien slippers Michael got him for his birthday. It was a peaceful night, so Arturo was able to listen as the girls’ car parked in the alley and they got out, giggling and talking loudly.

When they pushed through the door, bringing all their warmth and joy and noise along with them, Arturo’s chest was so full he could hardly stand it.

“Papiiiiiii,” Liz whined. “You didn’t have to wait up! Rosa and me watched out for each other. You shoulda seen their concert, Papi! Brought the house down.” 

“Of course,” Arturo said, deadpan, “She gets it from me, you know.”

Rosa rolled her eyes, trying to will herself to sobriety. After she split up with Maria to go home for the evening, she felt numb enough without drugs, honestly, and luckily hadn’t had anything more to drink. She still made Liz drive home. Who knew where Michael was. Maybe he was with Maria, the bastard. 

“So you had a good night?” Arturo prompted. “Broke many hearts? Danced only with each other and your friends to satisfy your over-protective papi, I’m sure.”

Rosa rolled her eyes. “Yeah, right, Papi. Liz broke all the hearts.”

“Did not! We just had fun!” Liz protested, taking off her shoes before hugging and kissing Arturo. “And I’m tired. Where’s Mikey? I didn’t see the truck.” 

“He gave me a call. He’s staying the night with Alex.” Arturo tsked. “It’s a good thing I know I did not raise a liar, or else I might suspect he was spending the night with someone else in that house.”

Arturo might have said no anyway, were it not for almost a decade’s worth of evidence of the lengths Michael would go to to be with Alex when he wanted to be. It wasn’t worth the fight, and Alex was a good kid too—he wouldn’t let Michael treat his sister badly.

Rosa huffed. Lucky bastard, indeed. But she was tired and Maria probably didn't want to talk to her, anyway. She needed space, whatever. 

"Oh, I see, you let _Michael_ stay out—" Liz began, outraged even though she was glad to be home and getting out of her dress. She was already unzipping. 

"Like you want to be anywhere besides your own bed," Rosa scolded fondly, unzipping her all the way. "Go on, I’ll let you have the bathroom first."

Liz’s eyebrows jumped up at that, and she rushed out “Okay, goodnight, Papi,” and disappeared up the stairs like Rosa might change her mind before Liz could get all her makeup off. Arturo chuckled and sat back down, picking up his mug.

“If you’re not too tired, mija _,_ I’ll make you some cocoa as well,” he offered Rosa. All his children were growing up, and it felt like he was spending less and less time with them. That was the natural way of things, of course, and he was so happy and proud of all of them as they began to spread their wings, but...still.

"I don't need any cocoa, Papi," Rosa said. "But I was hoping…” she took a deep breath, “we could talk.” 

Arturo pushed his mug away and leaned over, hands folded. “Of course! Take a seat—or we can go upstairs—whatever you need, mija, you can talk to me.”

He could tell, after years of watching her, that she had been drinking, so he braced himself for this to be about that, telling himself not to overreact.

"Um, so look," Rosa said, putting on all her armor. She wasn't going to take this lying down, wasn’t going to beg for her dad's acceptance, and she was even vaguely prepared if he threw her out. She didn't think he would, but just in case. "So you know how Alex is gay? He likes boys?"

“Sí. Mimi says she is lucky, that she only has to worry about keeping boys out of her house,” Arturo laughed. “And yet she lets Michael in anyway.”

“Right,” Rosa said, wanting desperately to deflect, because it wasn’t _fair_ that both Alex and Maria loved Michael so much, but that wasn’t her secret to keep or expose. And she was done keeping her own secrets from her Papi. “Well Michael’s harmless. And loveable. Anyways.” 

Rosa picked at her nail polish nervously, though she made every effort to sound casual, taking the tone she took with her little siblings when she was telling them how the world was. “I think I’m, um. Like Alex. Well, not really. I mean I like boys and I like girls. Maybe mostly girls. Maybe one girl. And I wanted you to know. Uh. It’s just a preference, like, there’s not even anyone I could date here, anyway, so, whatever…it’s not a big deal. I just wanted you to know that about me. That I’m bisexual.” 

Arturo was silent for a moment that felt impossibly long for Rosa and impossibly quick for Arturo as he searched for the right thing to say, to comfort his beautiful, vivid Rosa, who he never wanted to see shaking with fear before him. He reached out and took her hands, looked her in the eye, and said,

“Rosa, siempre te voy a amar, querida, pase lo que pase. Siempre vas a ser mija primera, mi razón de ser. Nunca te voy a dejar de querer, mi rosa linda.”

“Papi, ¿en serio?” Rosa said, suddenly crying, surprised by the tears clinging to her eyelashes. “I mean, you don’t—you wouldn’t care if I brought a girlfriend home?” 

Switching back to English, he said, “In our lives, we must always be willing to change. Coming to America, having you, having your sister, Helena leaving our lives, Miguel coming in...throughout everything, we have always been a family. Wherever your path in life takes you, even though as your father it’s my job to guide you, I will always try to change along with you as well. Does this make sense?”

Rosa nodded, unable to speak. She stood uncertain and unbelieving for a moment that her father just—loved her. No conditions. She didn’t have to be perfect, or what he expected, for him to love her. She had always been scared that that wasn’t true. And now she knew. 

She threw her arms around his neck and hugged him, not wanting him to see her cry. It would be insulting, maybe, to let him think she doubted what his response would be. “I love you, Papi. Te quiero.”

“Te quiero, my Rosalinda,” Arturo whispered, rocking her gently like he did when she was just a baby.

In truth, he didn’t know how this would change their lives, how to parent a child going through these struggles, the pain the world could put a person who loved like that through. But for his children, he would do anything, learn anything, and throughout it all he would love them just the same, because love had seldom failed him.

“It is a good thing Liz has always been there to chaperone when I have let your friends stay over before I knew this,” he fake-scolded when Rosa pulled away a little, hoping to make her laugh or groan at him.

Rosa managed a fake gasp, and the laugh that bubbled out of her stopped her from crying. “Look, my next question was going to be when will you ever stop with this no dating til we’re 900 crap, Papi? You’re saying, what, you’re the only Mexican dad who doesn’t want grandchildren?” 

“Of course I want grandchildren! I want as many grandchildren as you wish to give me. Is it wrong for me to want you to live your lives for a while, focus on yourselves?”

Rosa gave him the stink eye for that one, and he relented.

“Oh, alright. But your curfew is not changing! As long as you live in my house!”

“Dang. Knew I should have asked that one first,” Rosa said, laughing. She wiped her eyes again and kissed his cheek. “Thanks, Papi.” 

“Now, about the drinking…” 

Rosa was already up the stairs. “Goodnight, Papi, love you!”

“Rosa…!” 

Rosa peered back over the stairs, bracing her elbows on the banister boredly. “I had _two_ shots with Maria on the roof, and then I made Liz drive us home. You want to ground me for that?” 

At that, Arturo sighed and relented. “I suppose tonight was a special occasion, and you were being safe. Thank you for putting my mind at ease.”

“I know, right, I’m basically perfect,” Rosa called back to him.

The next thing Arturo heard was her hammering the bathroom door, telling Liz her time was up, and Liz shouting something back. Chuckling, he cleared the table of his mug and picked up the bag Rosa left behind, carrying it upstairs and putting it beside her bedroom door. He was just about to get in bed when Liz came in to give him a hug and say goodnight as well, and with that Arturo went to sleep, nothing but peace in his heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Spanish was translated for us by the wonderful Mythras_Fire!  
> "Rosa, I will always love you, my dear, whatever happens. You will always be my first daughter, my reason for being. I will never stop loving you, my pretty rose."


	9. Chapter 9

“I don’t know what he means by it, Mom,” Michael said, picking at the rubble by his feet, rolling rough pebbles between his fingers. “I don’t know how to make him see that he’s...perfect. Maybe I should get his name tattooed on me. Yeah, that would probably be a bad idea.”

Michael stared at his knees, the denim of his jeans pale and fraying. A few feet away, his mother floated peacefully behind an inch of miraculous alien technology. A few feet from her in all directions, more of their people did the same. Silent, safe. Healing.

And behind them all were the stairs up that ended in sunlight and open air and the ruins of a nightmare. Sanders led the demolition; Isobel, chin held high, changed the minds of anyone who thought there was anything to investigate. They archived all the records they could find, just in case, and consigned that awful place to a dusty decay.

Max and Isobel came along sometimes, but it was Michael who came by every weekend. To them, it was scary and sad and pointless, knowing as they did that no one in the pods could hear them. But to Michael it was hope and endless possibility.

And, he thought, maybe she  _ could  _ hear him, somehow. If she could, he wanted her to know everything about him, about his life. He wanted to give her happy things to hear. But sometimes he asked for advice or just got things off his chest, talked things through to someone who was a perfect listener.

“And now we’re all scared for Mimi,” he said. “I wish I could ask you about what’s happening to her and Maria. I wish you could tell us how to make another necklace so we could save them both. I wish…” he sighed. “I don’t know. I have to get going soon; Liz and I are going to see a new marine biology documentary showing at the theater. Thanks for listening, mom.”

He straightened up and dusted himself off and stepped toward her pod. He rested his forehead against the top for a brief second, then turned his back and was gone.

Every time he emerged from the underground room, he blinked in the sunlight like he’d been down there for years. Closing his eyes, he took a few deep breaths of desert sky, then trudged back toward his truck, hands in his pockets.

The wind tugged at his hair, and he stopped to take it in, the deep and quiet place inside himself this place always left him wandering. It was a long drive back. Liz would wonder where he’d been. 

Still, he gave himself a moment just to breathe, to watch the high, wispy clouds race across the sky, to watch the rustle and sway of the scrub and wildflowers already retaking the barren wasteland.

Wait—did he know those flowers?

Maybe. Possibly. He hadn’t had a chance to study the blossom in Mimi’s necklace closely, but just on the  _ chance, _ he bounded over to the crevice between two crumbling sheets of concrete and gently teased the tiny bunch of purple blossoms out of the soil, making sure to keep the roots intact.

…

Alex and Greg didn’t talk regularly, exactly, but Greg was very good about checking up on him, texting him at least once a week. At first their conversations were awkward, but over the year they worked through the baggage from their father, and began to truly care about each other. 

Greg had texted him asking how homecoming was, and said he was free to chat all day. So once Michael had left for the morning and Mimi, Maria and he had made and eaten breakfast together as was customary Sunday mornings, Alex got his stacks of homework out on his bed and opened up his phone to call Greg. 

“Hello?” 

“Hey, Greg! It’s Al. You got time to talk? This week was crazy.” 

“Alex! Hey, yeah, just give me a sec.” 

The sound got muffled for a second, then Alex heard the click of a door closing, and Greg’s voice came through again.

“The common room is currently full of twenty-two pumpkin art projects from Jamin’s students. I have no idea how he got them all home. We’ve been trying to find a way to store them without taking up all the kitchen counters, but it’s not going great.” Greg laughed. “Anyway, what’s up? How’ve you been?”

"Oh my God," Alex laughed. "Can you send me some pictures?"

"Definitely. I'll email you the ones we took."

Sometimes, growing up, Alex had felt crazy, like he was the only person in the world who hadn't drunk his dad's kool-aid. Now he knew better, that Greg had just been scared, too, and still a kid, for all that he was just 18, because the moment he had the choice, Gregory Manes had done a 180 and gotten certified to be a teacher. He was student teaching now on the reservation, and had moved out of their mom's house, and was just a completely different person than the boy Alex had grown up with, reacting out of fear. Alex loved talking to Greg now. 

"I'm telling you, crazy week. Where to begin…"

Alex took a deep breath. He’d resented how daddish Greg could be when they lived in the same house, but now he weirdly appreciated it. "Uh, Kyle and I are friends again. But not before we got detention again…"

“Dude, you’re such a rebel. Who knew?” They both laughed at that, but then Greg grew serious. “So Valenti had a change of heart? He’s been such a little shit to you for a long time, man. Are you sure about this?”

“Well, he had the change of heart independently of me, I think. The rest of the football team hates him because he stood up for me and Liz and Maria, actually. And, like, we talked at Homecoming. It’s not like I’m asking him to be my Best Man or anything. Speaking of Homecoming…” Alex began, much louder and much more excitedly. “We played. Alex + the Aliens played at actual Homecoming.”

“Holy shit, dude, nice! That kicks so much ass, I don’t know if I could ever have put myself out there in front of the whole school like that. I mean, I guess football games are kind of like that too, but when you’re all the way down on the field no one’s looking at  _ you,  _ you know? So was it awesome? Everything you dreamed it would be?”

“Oh my God, Greg, it was so great. We did so good, and they loved us! It was just the early part of the night, you know, before the DJ. No missed notes. Like, magical. And we even did an encore! We did a Led Zeppelin song for you!” 

“Well, glad I could inject  _ some  _ taste into the thing,” Greg needled. “Oh, hey, by the way, Mom wanted me to ask you what you thought about coming to stay over fall break. I’ll be there. But we weren’t sure if you already had plans or something.”

“Oh, yeah,” Alex said, thinking about it. Fall break was just a long weekend, but Alex hadn’t spent as long in Gallup over this summer as he usually did so he could work peak tourist season at the Alien Emporium. “Do our Fall Breaks line up again this year? Let me talk to Mimi and see if I can get out of work.” 

“Yeah, the 13th and 14th, I think, for us.” 

Alex paused, pressing his lips together, then went for it. “Can you ask Mom if I can bring a friend?” 

“Ooooh. Am I asking about a friend or about a  _ friend?  _ Is it Forrest? Are you guys back together?”

“No, no, no,” Alex said. “Well, I haven’t asked him yet, but I was hoping to bring Michael. He’ll probably have work, he always does. You remember Michael? He loves outdoor stuff, he’d have a blast.” 

Greg laughed softly. “Do I remember Michael. The same Michael who held your hand from the second you showed up bleeding until the second you got the last of the bandages off? Yeah, he’s kind of hard to forget.”

They didn’t really talk. About the before. And definitely not about the most immediate whirlwind days, the ones Alex barely remembered because of the drugs, when their father was dead and everything changed. Some days Alex thought Flint would never forgive him. Some days he almost thought Flint was looking for a way to say thank you. And Greg always made it so easy to act like nothing had ever happened. So it was hard to know how to respond, how much to say now.

Alex chuckled. “Don’t laugh, he’s...a really good friend. I think we’d both like to be more, uh, but. We’re not right now. Got bigger things to worry about, mostly, I guess. He’s got a full-ride to UNM, Regents’ Scholar. So, he’s leaving Roswell at some point. And he dated Maria all summer, and I’m still not sure… Anyway. Just friends.”

“Kid, I know we weren’t that close back then, but I also know that guy has been following you around for half your lives. If now isn’t the right time, what will be? If you think he’s just going to forget about you for the bright lights of Albuquerque...I think you might be wrong.” Greg paused, then continued, “I dunno. Probably none of my business anyway. It’s not like I’m exactly a dating expert.”

“That’s  _ right _ ,” Alex shot back playfully, but wanting to change the subject. “And where do you get off calling me ‘kid’? I’m not coming to visit just so you can treat me like a baby. Don’t you have enough students to deal with? Like, literal babies?” 

“I’m your older brother, I’m going to be treating you like a baby when you’re forty-five,” Greg teased. “But I can be merciful; I won’t embarrass you in front of Michael if you do come. Seriously, man, we want to see you.”

“Okay, I’ll check and get back to you, I promise,” Alex said, ready to wrap up and knowing there was one more thing to cover. He kept his voice casual. “And how’s Flint?” 

“Doing really well, actually,” Greg said, just as tentative. “I mean, he’s still a dickhead, but here’s the weirdest thing—my kids actually love him. Most of them know him as the handyman who’s sometimes around, but he had to bring me my lunch the other day and when the kids swarmed him it turned out he’d brought them all, like, little carved animals and flowers and stuff. I think he’s finally started seeing construction and that kind of hands on stuff as like a career and not just something he’s doing to keep mom off his back while he tries to decide on the Army or school or whatever.”

Alex tried to imagine Flint with kids, and had to wince, like imagining children playing with a wild javelina, but, whatever. People could change. “Wow, that’s…”

“He’ll stay with grandma while you’re here, though,” Greg added. 

Yeah. That was what Alex wanted to know. He swallowed past the lump in his throat, pushing down the vague sense that he was being a bit cruel. “Good. Grandpa’s good for him.” 

Alex cleared his throat, then, a prelude to a goodbye. “Okay, so, I’ll ask Mimi and check with work. You’ll see if it’s alright if Michael comes?” 

“Definitely, bro. I’ll text you. There’s basically no way she says no, though; she wants to know stuff about your life, y’know? It was good to talk to you.”

“Good to talk to you, too, Greg. Love you. Glad you guys are doing okay.” 

“Love you too, bud. Bye.”

Alex scoffed into the now-silent phone. Greg had definitely been spending too much time around seven year olds. Still, he focused on his homework with a smile on his face for his family.


	10. Chapter 10

Michael took the DeLuca’s driveway at nearly a skip and jumped the steps to the door in a single long-legged stretch. He held the little pot behind his back and felt like a dumbass for it, but oh well.

Maria answered the door, one eyebrow raised as she took him in.

“I know you know Alex isn’t home right now. You pick him up from work all the time.”

“Well, maybe I’m not here to see Alex,” Michael said, flashing her a hopefully-charming grin, which only made her look more skeptical. 

That was until her face softened into something more nervous and fragile, and she said, “Is this about Rosa? Is she...okay?”

“Huh? I mean, she’s fine, she’s been kind of down since homecoming, but she goes through these emotional downswings sometimes. We’ll help her through it, y’know?”

“Oh. Okay,” Maria said in a small voice. “Here, come in.”

Michael followed her into the kitchen, hands still behind his back. “How has Mimi been? Has she had any more memory issues since the other night?”

"Ugh," Maria said, and covered her face. "No, she's fine. Embarrassed, I think. I am, too."

Maria looked closely at Michael, searching for an ulterior motive and finding none. She relaxed around him. "Thanks for being there for us."

“No problem. Literally, any time. Listen, about your necklace…” 

She took a step back from him, wary again, so he rushed on before she could speak.

“I didn’t get a good look at the flower, but I was visiting, y’know, my mom, and I found this.” He held out the flower to her. “I don’t know how much it’ll help, but maybe if you just put it on your windowsill, it would hold off the nightmares, at least…?”

Maria blinked at Michael, then peered at the flower, ready to dismiss it before looking again. "Where did you say you found this?"

“Um...you know. Up north. At...at the prison. So if this  _ is  _ something to do with aliens...with Caulfield...it would kind of make sense.”

Maria compared the flower in her necklace to the dumb—cute—little flower in a clay pot that Michael was holding out to her. It wasn’t even a proper clay pot: it was obviously a mug from the Crashdown whose handle had broken off, and Michael had drilled a hole in the bottom for drainage. It was...adorable. No wonder she had fallen in love with him. He did everything at 110%. 

Anyway, they were the same flower. 

“If this protects me, maybe I can convince my mom to take the necklace back. M-maybe if we found more, or grew more, we could make two necklaces.” Maria chewed on the inside of her mouth, and invited Michael into the house all the way. Without looking at him she asked, “Are you ever scared of your powers?” 

Michael followed her until they were both on the couch, bodies angled toward each other, not quite touching. She rested the flower pot on her knees. 

“I used to be, yeah,” he said, staring at his hands. “And it was this sucky feedback loop, because I couldn’t really control them, so fear made me move things, and then I was scared of things moving. Either fear or anger. It got better after I came to Roswell. After I had Max and Isobel to tell me I wasn’t crazy. After I had the Ortechos, and I wasn’t so scared and angry all the time.”

Maria remembered Michael all those years ago, and quirked her mouth up in a smile—it was so hard to think of fear and anger defining Michael now, it was almost funny— “Was I the first person you met in Roswell? That night at the Pony?” 

“I met some pretty alarmed locals at the bus stop, extremely briefly,” Michael laughed. “And technically, no. Um. I think Ann Evans called the cops on me for loitering outside looking for Iz and Max, but the sheriff sent Jim instead.”

“Ha! Getting the cops called on you by Ann Evans is, like, the most accurate ‘Welcome to Roswell’ thing I can think of,” Maria interrupted. 

“But you were the first person my age—the first person who didn’t make me scared.”

Maria took Michael’s hand, and then set the tiny plant aside to give him a huge hug. 

“And now you’re paying it back,” she whispered, and kissed his cheek. She got that. Even exchanges just made sense to her. She reduced everything down to value: it was just how her brain worked. And Michael was like that, too, but...his sense of fairness was off. He had always let her walk all over him, and it had only gotten worse when they had dated. He’d let anyone walk all over him. That’s why he needed…

“Why aren’t you dating Alex yet?” she asked abruptly. “ _ We’re _ cool. And Alex won’t say it but he desperately wants an excuse to dodge Forrest.”

Alex would be good for him. All that calculated, tedious nobility. The paternalistic caring. The control-freakiness. The lengths to which Alex would go to protect Michael. Maria didn’t need to take her necklace off to imagine them working out perfectly. Maybe even going to Massachusetts and getting married. 

Michael’s face fell a little. “I don’t really know. We had a—a moment, after homecoming. But then he got really upset, started talking about how it’s not right yet, how it’s not the right time. I don’t know why. I don’t know how to make it better for him, how to make him see I don’t need or want anything but what he wants us to be…”

“It’s never going to be the right time if you wait on  _ him _ , Michael,” Maria said sternly. “Alex thinks he’s modern and queer and hip, but he’s got that  _ pater familias _ mindset. He’ll make you wait until he owns his own home and has a 401k to take care of you with. Don’t you want  _ him _ ? Or you just going to be whatever your partner wants you to be for all time?” 

She gave him a pointed look. 

“Of course I want him! But I want him to be  _ happy,  _ e-even if it’s not with me. I don’t want to push him before he’s ready, is that so wrong? I like making people I love happy. What’s wrong with being what people want you to be?”

Maria gesticulated wildly. “Do you hear yourself? I mean, no, nothing, if you’re not a  _ person _ . I know you crashed here in 1947 or whatever so you might have some outdated ideas, but a relationship should be a partnership. What’s Alex supposed to fall in love with if you’re just gonna be a mirror?” 

“I—guess I didn’t think of it like that.” He glanced at her then back at his hands. “Um. Did I...do that to you? Wait, you don’t have to answer that if you don’t want to.”

“You did. No wonder everyone falls in love with you,” Maria said with a wistful sigh, and held up the potted plant as evidence. “You’ll break more hearts by being perfect than you will just being yourself, Michael Guerin Ortecho.” 

“I’m sorry,” he said, though she never asked for and never wanted an apology. But then he smiled, that sweet smile, and said, “You’re a good friend, Maria. Thank you.”

“You’re the one who’s possibly saving me and my mother’s lives. We’re even,” Maria replied, since being even was important to both of them. 

“Does even mean I can ask you about why your first reaction to me showing up to talk to you was worry about Rosa? Is everything okay? Is there something I should know, or…?”

“What? No! That’s none of your business!” Maria said, and huffed, touching her necklace. 

When Michael just stared at her, she shifted uncomfortably. 

“I don’t know! Has she said anything to you?” 

“Nope. Like I said, she’s just been kind of down ever since the dance. Since you were so worried, I thought she might have told you something. But if it’s none of my business, it’s none of my business.”

Maria sighed loudly, put-upon. “Right, it’s  _ not  _ your business that your sister has a crush on me, and I don’t even know if I like her back like that,  _ and meanwhile _ I either have visions of us happily ever after  _ or  _ of her dying horribly!” 

Michael’s eyes sharpened, but she continued like he had asked her a question.

“Shouldn’t I know by now? How do I know I don't just think she's pretty and my best friend and super cool? You and her and Alex have all known who you are forever, what's wrong with me that I'm 18 and still have no idea?” Maria picked at her nail polish angrily. “Ugh, why would I be attracted to men if I could help it?” 

“Hey, Maria,” Michael said, grabbing her hands and squeezing them gently. “ _ Nothing  _ is wrong with you, okay? It isn’t like you just wake up one day and the gay Easter bunny visited you in your sleep or whatever. Like, I still look at guys other than Alex like I have to dissect if I’m attracted to them or not and if the answer’s no I feel like I’m just faking it or something. The point is that you  _ can’t  _ help it. So whether you feel that way about Rosa or not, it’s nothing you chose to do or not do, it’s just who you are. And we’re not going to stop loving who you are.”

“Well, I know that,” Maria said, rolling her eyes. “My friends are a damned pride parade. Liz is probably aromantic, even, the way she talks about the swarms of guys that’re after her.” 

Maria put her head in her hands and said, by way of dismissal, “Anyway, sorry for unloading on you. Thanks for the flower. I’ll talk to mom about it.” 

“You weren’t  _ unloading.  _ It’s okay to ask for advice, believe it or not. I won’t tell Rosa we talked about it, unless you want me to, okay?”

“Tell her whatever, she’s already mad at me,” Maria said miserably. She leaned against Michael, and he put his arm around her almost reflexively. He was a good guy. “I just feel like it’ll seem fake. Like I’m just following all my friends or something. That’s dumb, I know. But it’s hard to...” she sighed. “You know Alex was my first kiss? When he was still figuring things out. I don’t want to do that to Rosa. If I’m just...experimenting.” 

“What were you just telling me about Alex? What you want is important. If you want to be with Rosa and she wants to be with you, you should try it. If it doesn’t work out, it doesn’t work out, but even if your identity is part of why, that doesn’t make it your  _ fault,  _ okay? If you aren’t intending to manipulate Rosa’s feelings just to help yourself, then you....aren’t manipulating Rosa’s feelings just to help yourself.”

Maria snorted, somehow comforted by Michael’s weird circular logic. “Okay, let’s make a deal. You promise to go with Alex to Gallup for Fall Break, and I go along with Rosa next time she takes a trip to Santa Fe to go to an art opening. She could probably use someone like me around to make sure she actually gives people her card and doesn’t piss anyone off.” 

“Hell yeah. You can convince her to drive her own car instead of stealing my truck for it.”

Michael stood up and took the flower from her, carrying it to the kitchen to give it a little water, and then he followed Maria into her bedroom, leaving the door open in case Mimi came home, and placed it carefully on the windowsill.

“Better, we’ll take my mom’s car. Girls’ weekend!” Maria said. She was already taking her necklace off, ready to make her mom wear it if she had to strap it to her. 

“You don’t have to make me promise anything to go meet Alex’s mom. I’m already excited. And intimidated. Oh god, so intimidated.”

“You should talk to my mom about her. I think they knew each other in high school. I may even have met her a few times when me and Alex were real little.” Maria stared at the little pot in the window sill. “Again, just be yourself. I can’t believe you’re like a literal dumb Disney character who actually needs to hear that.” 

“We all have flaws,” Michael said with a grin and a shrug.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw for the presence of ICE agents and the threat they pose to the citizens of Roswell. (harassment, threats of police brutality/deportation/abduction)

“—I’m allowed to _both_ be glad I have the room to myself for the weekend _and_ be worried about Rosa!”

“Maria’s with her!”

“Oh, Maria _acts_ like the good girl, but she’s the real instigator. Rosa’s just dumb enough to say yes to her crazy ideas! Santa Fe won’t know what hit it.” 

Liz and Michael were walking home from the library together, spending a refreshing afternoon writing lab reports and a few other less exciting papers. They both had shifts at the Crashdown later, but had planned a sibling date with the Evanses to go see _Sweeny Todd_ at the movie theater that night—Mrs. Evans’ treat. It was shaping up to be a good weekend. 

“Keeping Rosa out of trouble is like a hobby for Maria at this point. I’m sure whatever they get up to will be carefully controlled chaos,” Michael said. He shifted his armful of books to his other arm. “Are you sure you don’t want help carrying? I’m not trying to call you weak, I just feel bad.”

"What, that you're in easier and dumber classes that don’t have books just so you can compete with my GPA?" Liz replied, sweet but savage. "I mean, _wood shop_ , Michael."

“I like wood shop! You’re just mad that building a crappy birdhouse would drag your grades down,” Michael jabbed back. “I’m allowed to take classes I like, take it up with the administrators if you think it should be weighted less.” He stuck out his tongue at her.

Liz stuck her tongue out back at Michael and then laughed. She liked having him as a brother. They made each other work harder, to be the smart one, the perfect one, the hardest worker—but in a fun way, competing for Rosa and Arturo’s pride in them when they knew it wasn't finite. 

"I'm picking my battles on that one. I might have to beg for an A in Astronomy as it is. And I don't want to hear it. I know you aced it, that's why I'm so embarrassed—whoa, check it, 5-0…" She pointed out a very official-looking but unmarked van, almost off-handedly. "...What the hell, Feds?"

They exchanged uneasy glances, and then Michael dared to say it out loud.

“Is...dad working front of house today? We should hurry home.” They were only a few minutes’ walk from the Crashdown. This was too close.

"Dios mio, Mikey, you don't think that's…"

Michael had his own fears of people in dark vans whisking him away, but there was one fear all the Ortecho children shared, and that was their father getting detained and deported. 

They hurried past just as men looking like they wore SWAT gear got out of the back of the van and went into the corner store owned by the Hussains. 

Liz stopped, a new fear detaining her, and Michael could see that barely-contained rage threatening to boil over into action. He grabbed her shoulder, then her arm, tugging her toward home.

“We have to find Papi,” he urged her, voice trembling. 

And he needed to call Isobel. 

“I just want to go in there and make sure they’re not…” Liz said, but Michael shook his head and tugged at her.

“Okay, you’re right, we should look out for them. _I’ll_ distract the agents somehow, okay, just—go to Dad, okay? Please.”

Liz turned wild eyes on Michael. “What are _you_ gonna do? Is this because you’re white?” 

She was on the verge of being offended, but mostly because _he was right_ , so it was really more societal outrage. But, right, okay. Papi. She stamped her foot without even letting him try to answer that one. “Fine!” 

Liz thrust her heavy books into Michael’s arms without asking, and ran in the direction of the Crashdown. 

As soon as Liz was gone, Michael whipped out his phone and called Isobel.

“I need you to get over here. I need your, uh, unique perspective, if you know what I mean. Meet me in front of the Hussains’.”

“Michael, what—”

“I’ll tell you when you get here. Hurry.”

And he hung up and ran into the store, using his own _unique perspective_ to give the brakes of the van a nudge as he went.

“Hey, there’s a van outside rolling away!” He shouted into the store.

The exclamations from inside incited just enough chaos, it sounded like, for the elder Hussains to quietly slip out the back as the agents—one tall, thin, and bald, and the other short and stocky and ginger, like they were literal cartoon character villains—chased their van down the block. 

* * *

Liz burst into the Crashdown, because of course her father hadn’t answered the damned phone. 

“Papi! I’ve been calling you!” 

Arturo wagged a finger from the kitchen. “You know you’re only supposed to use that phone for emergencies!”

“This _is_ an emergency,” Liz said, pushing through the kitchen doors and grabbing her father’s arms. “Papi, you should go upstairs. Me and Michael saw ICE agents just a few blocks away; he stayed to keep an eye on them to warn us if they come this way.”

Arturo didn't give away any of his fear on the outside, but he did nod and wash his hands, speaking calmly in Spanish to the other workers, one of whom left the building immediately. 

"This leaves you in charge of the diner, mija. Don't make trouble. I will...go upstairs. Tell your brother to get home."

* * *

Isobel and Max rolled up in Max's jeep not five minutes after Michael made the call, which meant they had left immediately and had been speeding. Isobel was driving, so that explained that. "Get in, loser, we're going unique perspectiving."

Michael clambered into the backseat. “ICE is in town and they’ve already been harassing the Hussains at the Corner Mart.” 

“What? Oh my God!” Max exclaimed. 

“Isobel, you have to make them leave. I know you hate doing it, I hate asking you, but we have to—God, I wish Rosa was here, she should be here, if—” he cut himself off with a whimper, knowing Max and Iz wouldn’t laugh at him, then continued: “Liz ran home to warn Dad. We should go make sure she’s okay. We should do that first, maybe.”

“That them down there?” Isobel said, sizing up the chuckleheads who were in their creepy van arguing about the parkin brake. She tossed her hair, but the boys could tell she was really worried. “Guess the creeps who come for green people and brown people all look alike.” 

“And work alike,” Max said, but if he had been about to rattle off statistics about people who ‘disappeared’ through immigration processing, he took one look at Michael and decided not to. 

Isobel grabbed an acetone bottle from the glove box and took a preemptive sip. “Okay. You want to check on Mr. Ortecho first, or go deal with these guys now, while they’re here?” 

Michael’s phone rang. Liz was talking before he had a chance to say ‘Hello.’

“Papi’s upstairs. He put me in charge, so I’m putting the Closed sign up and coming out. Is it safe for him to get to the DeLuca’s or should he stay put?” 

Max, who overheard, said, “Tell her and her dad to stay put. We’ll take care of it.” 

“Tell Max to shove it,” Liz said, and hung up before Michael managed a word. 

She stopped by the two tables who were eating their food and smiled sweetly. “Family emergency, sorry, your meal’s free today, just make sure the door shuts behind you. The guy in the kitchen can get you anything you need.” 

Liz flipped the CLOSED sign as she left the restaurant. 

Michael waved her frantically over. The time for secrecy was over; Liz was every bit as much his family as Rosa, and it was long past time she knew. Max could double shove it if he was going to complain.

“It’s going to be okay,” he said as Liz climbed into the Jeep. “Look, we have an idea to get rid of them.”

“Great! What is it?” Liz asked, watching how Michael looked to Isobel, and Isobel looked to Max. 

Max coughed, but didn’t say anything. 

“Okay, what is it?” Liz demanded, impatiently watching the agents get into their car and head back up towards the corner store. “What’s the plan? Is it illegal? Your dad’s the lawyer!”

“Well, there definitely aren’t any laws on the books against it,” Isobel muttered.

“Isobel’s going to talk to them, and then they’re going to go away,” Michael said calmly.

“We’re extraterrestrials. We have superpowers and Isobel’s is the ability to persuade people to do what she wants,” Max blurted, then clamped his hands over his mouth.

“Max!” Isobel gasped in surprise more than alarm. 

That startled Liz into actually looking away from the agents. She stared at him sharply, then laughed, then glared at all three of them when they seemed serious. "Aliens? That’s your gag?"

Michael nodded.

“Aliens.” 

She drew back from Michael, most surprised by this revelation. _Her brother_? Who cried when he saw a baby bird that had fallen from its nest and didn’t stop crying until he put it back? Who cheated at all games to let everyone else win? Who’d had the same dumb backpack since he was ten? Who could only sing passably if someone else sang with him? Who barfed when he got nervous? 

“ _You_?” Liz’s eyes darted back between the three of them. “What the fuck kind of sick joke is this?”

Max sighed. 

“Just. Watch,” he said, as Isobel said “Cut the engine,” and got out of the Jeep and flagged the agents down. “Or, well, you won’t be able to _see_ anything, I guess.” 

“You’re psychotic,” Liz said, unimpressed. 

“Liz,” Michael said softly, “Papi already knows. He’s always known. Once we take care of these bastards, we’ll talk to him. Or Max or I can give a demonstration when we’re not in public; our powers are a little more, uh, visible.”

“¿Serio, Mikey?” she demanded, not really wanting the Evanses to overhear. “¿Eres un extraterrestre? ¿Y tienes superpoderes? ¿¡Y esperas hasta ahorita para decírmelo?!” 

Isobel, meanwhile, batted her eyelashes at the agents. “Excuse me, sirs, could we possibly get a jump for my brother’s car? You look like civic-minded gentlemen who could…”

Isobel’s world took on that familiar rainbow filter as she thrust inside their minds. It was gross in there, especially two of them at once, and she finished, in her own head where she was on complete control, “... _be dumb enough to fall for a pretty, underage blonde._ ” 

“Era peligroso, Liz,” Michael replied. “Toda la gente que sabe la verdad se lo descubrió por accidente—salvo que Papi, creo. Jim se lo contó antes de que le pidió que me adoptara.”

Liz harumphed as the agents, who seemed to be involved with a flirty, frankly disgusting conversation with Isobel, waved and got back into their kidnapper van and…

“Wait, they’re driving—where are they going?!” Liz demanded. 

“To turn in their two weeks’ notice,” Isobel said, rejoining them. “And _I_ am going to go boil myself alive in the shower. And be, like, super smug about myself for my good deeds or whatever.”

“Thank you, Isobel,” Michael whispered. _Can I give you a hug?_

“Of course, you enormous idiot,” she groused, opening her arms for Michael to wrap his arms around her and give her a squeeze.

“So, wait, okay,” Liz said, her rational mind unable to wrap her head around— “ _aliens_?”

“Yes,” Max said solemnly, taking her hands. He turned, and Liz followed his gaze as the van drove down the block. Sheriff Valenti, perhaps alerted by a concerned citizen, was pulling up in her truck just in time to see the ICE van running away. 

“Just...watch,” Max said. 

He coughed, and the green light ahead of the ICE van turned suddenly red _without turning yellow_ , just as the van entered the intersection. 

Sheriff Valenti was usually lenient about people running red lights in her town, it being the civic pastime of New Mexico as it was, but for an unmarked black van pushing citizens in her town around, well, she’d make an exception. 

Her sirens went on, and Michael and Isobel cheered. 

Liz shrank back, still looking at Michael, though her eyes darted to Max, until she was looking back and forth between these two boys she’d known her entire life, searching for any evidence, anything empirical, to tell her that there was anything different about them and always had been.

“Liz?” Max said gently. “I—we—aren’t going to do anything to hurt you, okay? I promise.”

“I’m not scared of you. I just...need more information,” Liz said.

Michael suggested, “We could do a demonstration out at the junkyard.”

"I think that was demonstration enough," Max said, turning sour again. 

Isobel laughed. "Whatever, _Dad_. The cat's out of the bag. Liz is literally the last person to find out...and I'm gonna need some more acetone."

"And _we_ have to work, or it won't matter that we saved Papi because he'll kill us." Liz narrowed her eyes. "But I want to keep talking."

Max caved, turning the Jeep around. "Crashdown it is."

“Wait, what do you mean I’m the last to know?” Liz demanded. “Who else knows besides Papi? Rosa? Maria? Alex?”

“And Kyle,” Isobel said cheerfully, knowing it would get Michael in trouble.

“ _Kyle Valenti_ knew before me _?”_

Michael winced. “Okay, no one _told_ Kyle, he just kind of found out. When Alex’s dad kidnapped him and took him to an alien torture prison to use as leverage against his parents. It’s kind of a long story.”

“Alien torture prison,” Liz repeated, deadpan. Maybe she had more in common with Michael and his siblings she thought.

“Okay, so, like, where are you from? What do you _do_ ?” Liz asked, getting out of the jeep and backing up into the empty restaurant. She had half a mind to leave it closed, but Michael turned the sign back over. “Never mind, I’m going to want to take notes. Do you have, like, extra hearts? I know you bleed red blood. What’s this about _acetone_?”

“It’s kind of a painkiller. And no, no extra body parts we’re aware of, though we haven’t exactly had x-rays. Not interested in becoming medical experiments, thanks.”

“I could medically experiment on you!” Liz said, sounding way too excited. She added quietly, “Safely, I mean.” 

“Please don’t,” Max said weakly.

“Isobel can influence people, I have telekinesis, Max can heal and shoot lightning from his fingers but it’s not as cool as you might think.”

“Okay, but I didn’t see any lightning today… But you can manipulate electricity?”

“I mean, sometimes? Really I just figured out where to cause a short in the, um…” Max stammered. 

“Healing is pretty cool, though,” Isobel said. “And so is being able to, like, lift a car. These two got the good powers, mine kind of sucks.”

Liz stopped, grabbing Isobel’s arm. “You just... _saved my dad_ , Isobel. I’m still not sure you’re not just, like, really convincing, because you are, but...um, thanks.” 

Then Liz rounded on Michael, who was tying his apron and trying to hide in the kitchen. “But _you_! I’m not finished with you! Go get Papi!” 

Michael took the stairs two at a time, then burst into Arturo’s bedroom and hugged his dad, who patted him on the back after a second of shock.

“¿Ya se fueron? ¿Qué ocurre, Miguel?” Arturo asked. “Liz said you were distracting them—did you get yourself in trouble?”

“No, no, Papi, se fueron. They’re not coming back, either, we’re safe for now. Liz is downstairs with Max and Isobel—they, uh, helped get rid of the agents.”

“Michael, what did you do?”

“...Isobel got into their heads and made them leave, okay?”

“ _Michael._ ”

“What! They’re ICE scumbags, I’m not sorry.”

Arturo sighed hugely. Michael was getting too tall, too smart, and Arturo was too proud of him. “No, I know, mijo. But it’s dangerous. Next time maybe the black vans come for you, and what do I do?” 

But he hugged Michael once again, patting his back. “You’re late for your shift, you know. Saving me is no excuse.”

“Liz turned away customers.”

“ELIZABETH!” 

“What?” Liz cried, already on her way up the stairs. She met Arturo and Michael halfway and threw herself into hugging her father, squeezing him with all her strength.

“Should I call Rosa? I don’t want to freak her out, but…” Michael said.

"No, no, we do not want to disturb her weekend with her—with Maria," Arturo said, possibly flushing, though Liz and Michael wouldn't have bet on it. "Now what's this about turning away customers? Mija, I am very glad you are not so good at lying, but besides costing us business, wouldn't that look _suspicious_?"

“No way, I told them family emergency. Clearly your son needed immediate medical attention,” Liz said sweetly.

Michael deadpanned, “Ouch, oh no, my arm, I think it’s broken.”

“His dreams of being a Major League pitcher are over and it’s a tragedy,” Liz agreed.

Arturo gave them both an approximation of a lineface. "You are making fun of me at a time like this, with your jokes. Get back to work!” 

But he was smiling as he shooed them downstairs, where Isobel looked smug and Max looked guilty, and there were two crisp $20 bills in the tip jar that weren’t there before. 

Isobel slid one of the bobble headbands onto her head and beamed at them. “What do you think, is it me?”

“Yeah, totally,” Michael scoffed, snatching it off her head.

“How come you don’t wear the antenna, Michael? Are you not invested in the family business?”

“Leave him alone, Iz.”

“No, she’s right, I think Michael should wear the antenna.”

“Liz!”

“Sorry, Mikey, you’re outvoted.”

“I don’t even wait tables!”

“He cooks so he doesn’t have to wear the antennae,” Liz said. “It’s not a gendered thing. Papi wears them.” 

“The antennae are tips!” Arturo shouted from the back, preparing something in secret that even Michael couldn’t see. “People come here wanting aliens! So, we give them aliens.”

Pushing open the swinging door, Arturo joined them at the bar and set a truly monstrous banana split in front of the teens, with four spoons and a wink, as if to say, _Aliens, indeed_. “Come! Eat.” 

When Michael tried to shoulder in between Max and Isobel to get to the ice cream, Isobel pounced and forced the headband onto him while he squawked. He gave in, though, because of course he did, even when Isobel snapped a picture of him with her fancy camera phone. 

“So, Max…” Liz said, perching on a barstool and patting the one beside her to get him to sit. “I’ve heard you’re thinking of a road trip after graduation? I had the same thought—we should compare notes.”

Max gave Michael the dirtiest look, however briefly, because he had no such plans—or rather, only if they included Liz Ortecho. Clearly, his meddlesome brother knew what was best for him. 

“Well, that’s not entirely true,” Max said slowly. “Really, he just told me about some of your plans, and I thought they sounded neat….” 

“ _Neat_? Oh my God, you’re such a boy scout, Maxwell,” Isobel groaned, digging into the ice cream. “Thank you, Mr. Ortecho! Do you make the caramel sauce yourself? It’s so good!” 

Arturo puffed out his chest with pride, and Michael and Liz rolled their eyes with smiles on their faces.

Liz said, “Come on, Max, lighten up. I can’t be the only person here who wants to see the world outside of friggin’ Roswell! I mean, especially if you’re _aliens,_ you’d think I wouldn’t be the one with the wanderlust, here.”

"I think, well," Max stammered, "I think that any place would pale in comparison to Liz Ortecho."

"Ooh," Isobel laughed, daring to be impressed. Maybe her brother really should have been a thespian. He performed better with an audience.

Liz leaned in to take a bite of ice cream. "So maybe you shouldn't go on a road trip with me, to give the rest of the world a chance to compete with me."

“Maybe I should. There’s no other way to make the world more beautiful,” Max breathed.

Michael slid off his stool to pat his spluttering father on the arm and pull him into the kitchen to give Liz her moment.

"She is too young to be going on road trips with boys, Miguel," Arturo complained. "You going to Gallup with Alex, that is different. Even Rosa is only gone for a weekend…"

“We’re the same age,” Michael pointed out. “And Max is, like, completely harmless. She’ll be _fine,_ Papi.”

Arturo sighed, shaking his head. “Since when did you become a young man on me? All of you are growing up and...looking after me.” 

Michael leaned back against the counter, hands in his pockets, not quite sure how emotional he should get, what would be weird or too real or whatever to say, but eventually he spoke. 

“You deserve us looking after you. We, all three of us, we’ve watched you our whole lives—well, most of mine—taking care of everyone, and trust me. There’s no one deserving of it more than you, okay?”

“I don’t know about that.” Arturo wiped his hands on his apron and opened his arms for a hug. “Come here, mijo.” 

“We’re filling up our hug quota fast today,” Michael quipped to cover the ball of emotion unfurling in his chest. 

“Don’t sass me, or no trip to Gallup!” Arturo said, patting him on the back as the bell on the door dinged. Arturo and Michael flinched, glancing at the door, but it was a family of tourists. Liz was already on her way to greet them. Arturo shook himself and waved Michael towards the frier. “Get some fries going, and the grill hot. I’ll prep.”

They fell into a comfortable pattern, working side by side, almost reading each other’s minds and working as one. Arturo didn’t know what he was going to do without them, sometimes, and it made him appreciate them more now. 

Isobel perched back on a stool right in front of the order window, tuning out Max and Liz’s flirty chatter behind her, smiling at her phone as she snapped another picture of Michael with alien antenna bobbling away atop his curls, smiling at something Mr. Ortecho said.

Damn, it was good to be her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to Mythras_Fire for helping with the Spanish translations! 
> 
> \- “Seriously, Michael? You’re an alien? And you have powers? And you decide to tell me this now?!”  
> \- “It wasn’t safe, Liz. Everyone who knows found out by accident—except Papi, really. Jim told him before he asked him to adopt me.”  
> \- "Are they gone? What’s going on, Michael?"  
> \- "No, no, Papi, they’re gone."


	12. Chapter 12

“You’re gonna wear...um, that?” Maria asked, in that tone she had that was trying not to be judgy but was totally failing. 

“Mari- _ uh _ !” Rosa all but grunted her name, throwing her scrunchie at her. “It’s literally my only professional wardrobe! I know it’s, like ‘professional’ for the eighties, but thrift store shoppers can’t be choosers.” 

The brown skirt and white button-up were perfectly serviceable. And that was Rosa’s thing, she didn’t care about clothes. Clothes weren’t art, to her, she wasn’t the art. She wanted art on everything else precisely so no one looked at her. 

Well, except she didn’t mind when Maria looked at her…

They were in a very inexpensive and very sketch motel room in Santa Fe, about to go to the Gala where Rosa was showing off one (1) whole piece that made it into one of these too-swanky galleries that she could barely afford. Maybe her brown skirt was reflecting how she felt about this whole thing. Shit. She felt like shit. 

Things had been...a little awkward between the two of them since Homecoming, so when Rosa asked Maria to come with her to the gallery, Maria had jumped at the chance to get them back to something like normalcy. Or a new normalcy. Just, anything better than this scary, fragile limbo. 

“I know you hate being the center of attention for stuff like this,” Maria said, joining Rosa at the mirror. “But you can still look like yourself.” 

She handed over a pitch black eyeliner pencil and Rosa’s best red lipstick, smiling at her reflection.

“I like what you’re wearing,” Rosa commented, an easy comment, but it made Maria blush. 

Maria looked like she belonged in one of these Santa Fe art galleries, business and artsy hippie in one. She was wearing a pinstripe Fedora, for crying out out. And a big furry vest. And she made it work. 

Even when Rosa put on the lipstick and eyeliner and let her hair back down, it wasn’t doing her any favors. She looked like an awkward artist, the way artists really looked, people who did art because they needed to, not for attention. She even had paint flecks on her right hand, and ink under her nails on the other. 

“Maybe we’ll tell them  _ you’re  _ Rosa Ortecho and you can do the schmoozing for me. Yes! We’ll Barbara Streisand this!” 

_ “Rosa, _ ” Maria scolded lightly. “It’s your art. I could never do describing it justice the way you could. And the gallery wants to hear from  _ you.  _ The brilliant mind that put something brilliant on a canvas. Anyway, artists are supposed to be weird! If you feel shy and awkward, lean into it. Here.” 

Maria took off her fuzzy vest and threw it around Rosa’s shoulders.

“And a little extra flair couldn’t hurt.”

Rosa laughed, throwing the vest on and checking herself out in the grimey mirror, with Maria next to her, still looking like a knockout. She groaned dramatically. “I think there’s just no hope for me as long as you’re standing next to me.” 

But she turned a smile on Maria directly, and leaned in to kiss her hair, to let her know she was kidding. 

Maria looped her arm around Rosa’s waist. “If we make this an argument about who’s the most gorgeous, we’re going to be late, you know. And not just fashionably.”

* * *

The “gala” was just a bunch of fancy appetizers Rosa and Maria tried to turn into dinner, and wine neither of them could drink because this place had 21 and over wristbands and using Rosa’s fake ID would defeat the purpose of “getting her name out there.” Rosa had interned with a few people and painted the office windows of a few others, so she knew some people, but definitely not well enough to talk to, and without booze, she just stood there awkwardly wanting some and not knowing what to say to people. Maria being there helped, because Rosa had someone to talk to, and it was way too tempting to just comment on everyone and their weird art from the sidelines. 

“Oh, I bet that’s the lady in charge!” Maria hissed, poking Rosa in the ribs and then poking her finger toward a woman surrounded by a gaggle of people. As they watched, the admirers dispersed in favor of the hors d'oeuvres, and Maria poked Rosa again. “Now’s your chance! Go say hi! Just thank her for the invitation or whatever!”

"Come with me!" Rosa hissed, dragging Maria with her. She plastered on a fake smile. "Hiiii, Ms—er, Dr. Sandoval, great party! Uh, like, thanks for the invitation."

Here she stalled out, having run out of Maria’s script. 

Maria threw her an assist. “It’s so nice to meet you, Dr. Sandoval. I’m the plus one. Rosa’s the artist.”

Dr. Sandoval smiled at both of them graciously. “Nice to meet you as well. I don’t suppose this is your first time being featured in a show? I remember the nerves well.”

Rosa hadn't expected this person to be...well, human, so she recovered quickly. "Oh, God, that obvious, huh? I had to bring my best friend along just in case I, like, fainted. I mean this isn't my first show, but the first one this nice. Not sure I belong here."

Whether flattered or humoring or pitying, Dr. Sandoval’s smile didn’t flicker. "Show me which piece yours was again?"

Rosa beamed and led the way.

Maria stayed behind to let Rosa have the spotlight and smiled as Rosa bloomed, nervous and stumbling at first until she was talking animatedly and Dr. Sandoval was nodding along.

All this art all around her, and Maria didn’t want to look anywhere else. 

The smile slid slowly off her face into something smaller and more fixed, and she stuck her hands in her pockets just for something to do with them. Beside Rosa was her painting, a true Rosa original, something heavy on the shadows shot through with bright colors, thick, stifling lettering giving away to something thinner and spun all delicate and fragile and...Maria sighed. At least someone outside of Roswell was finally recognizing her genius.

Stupid under-21 wristband. She was just the plus-one, the gallery didn’t know her. She could have faked being of age, god damn it. 

Dr. Sandoval’s attention attracted several other gallery owners, artists, and guests over to Rosa’s piece. Before she knew it, Rosa had a stack of business cards of people to contact, not exactly sure what she should do with them but feeling like they were important. 

When she finally spotted Maria, a full hour of talking to people later, the little minx had scored two glasses of champagne and looked ready to drink them both if left to her own devices. 

“Have I said I love you today?” Rosa asked. Her mouth was dry and her face hurt, actually, from putting on a smile. 

Maria stumbled just a little, not sure, entirely, how she was supposed to respond to things like that now, but she caught herself quickly. 

“I mean, you can always say it again,” she teased, handing over a champagne flute and also a tiny bottle of water she’d snagged from the table.

“I love you. Thanks for being here, Maria, seriously,” Rosa said, downing the champagne and sipping the water. For once, she wasn’t thinking about how much she’d like to kiss Rosa as much as she wanted to hide inside a hug from her. “I think I’d fall apart if—look at all these—” she showed Maria the business cards. “Do I call them? Do they call me?” 

“I don’t know,” Maria giggled. “I think it’s like fancy and professional to send like a follow up thank you to Dr. Sandoval, at least?”

“Yeah, yeah, that sounds good,” Rosa said, and giggled, too, exhilarated by just being here, and being here with Maria. 

Rosa was determined to just be loving (this was easy), and appreciative (very easy), and not make this awkward (manageable), no matter what kinds of feelings Maria held for her in return. “How’d you even score the champagne, you mercenary?” 

Maria preened under Rosa’s appreciation. “They should use stamps instead. Wristbands come off if you try hard enough, and no one’s going to look close enough to notice if it’s a little stretched, or taped up subtly enough,” she said. “Better savor this one, though, ‘cause I’m not going back for seconds. Wouldn’t be fair to get the drinks guy in trouble.”

"You're too nice," Rosa said, linking their arms together and pulling her close. Maria was so soft, and smelled so good, and her hair—forget about it, Rosa was gone for it. She'd probably never get over being in love with her, but Maria was her BFF, so she'd stay in her life somehow. "I guess we can still share a bottle of wine back at the room."

“Sure. But, um…” Maria hesitated. She didn’t want this to get taken the wrong way, it was just…

She reached out and squeezed Rosa’s hand.

“I don’t mind being around you when we’re  _ not  _ getting all tipsy and giggly, you know. We could just...hang out. With wine or without it. I could tell your future, you could tell me I’m full of shit...sound like a good time?”

"Hey, I thought you weren't supposed to flex your psychic shit anymore," Rosa pointed out before the magnitude—or, possible magnitude—of Maria's desire suggested itself. They were holding hands, in a more-than-pals way. "Uh. I mean, yeah. What would you...I mean, I really like hanging out with you, no matter what we do."

“Okay. Good.” Silence fell a little flat between them. Maria hadn’t known where she was going from the start, and now that she was there, she didn’t know what to do with that either. 

She dropped Rosa’s hand but sidled closer to bump their shoulders together so Rosa didn’t take it as rejection.

“And okay, maybe I’m not supposed to be doing psychic stuff, but Mom’s not here right now, so….”

"Look, if anything happened to you I'd fucking kill myself and draw your portrait in the blood. So if you don't want that kind of a metal send-off, you take care of yourself," Rosa said sternly, at least half-serious but playful enough. "Let's see what's on cable and get some, like, chocolate donuts at the corner store. Maybe I'll draw you again. How about that? I have markers and a sketchbook with me." 

“I’m getting Zebra Cakes,” Maria announced. “What Mom doesn’t know won’t hurt either of us.” She linked their arms together and steered them toward the door. “We can be each other’s conscience about taking care of ourselves for the rest of our lives, mmk?”

“Ugh, zebra cakes are just objectively gross,” Rosa laughed. “I’m at least talking  _ good  _ junk food.”

* * *

With an array of good and bad junk food piled up on the motel room’s tiny “desk,” Rosa and Maria stripped out of their fancy clothes and into their PJs. 

“We should like, dress you in a sheet,” Rosa said, smile wide. “For my drawing.” 

“Ew! Rosa, I’m not wearing that! These sheets are sketch.” 

“Okay, I mean, like, put it over your clothes,” Rosa laughed, wrapping the sheet around her lovingly. “Eat some zebra cakes, you’re getting cranky on me.” 

“But then there will be crumbs in your picture,” Maria teased. “You’ll have to put up with a muse who’s not in a sugar coma.”

"Nah, nah, eat. I'll draw them as grapes or something. Or, what do you wish you were eating right now?" Rosa stuffed an entire mini donut in her mouth and rummaged in her bag for her sketchbook. "Where do you wish you were? I'll draw you in Hawaii on the beach or something."

“Oh, yes, the beach. Somewhere warm and sandy, so exotic.”

Rosa smacked her with a pillow at the sarcasm, and Maria shrieked with giggles.

“How about you draw me where  _ you  _ want to see me?” Maria suggested, readjusting the sheet while touching it as little as possible.

Rosa blushed as a thousand possibilities, all of them romantic at best and filthy at worst, popped readily to her mind. _ In my bed, dancing at our wedding, in the shower, right here but naked.  _

"You're, um, a brat!" she managed once her brain came back online. "I'll show you."

Maybe they'd honeymoon in Colorado, somewhere cold. And Maria would be in five layers of sweaters as they learned to ski on dumb little bunny slopes, and came back inside and snuggled by a big fire with hot cocoa. Rosa was already drawing. A bottle of peppermint schnapps was set next to the cocoa, and Maria's cheeks were red, her hair huge and unmanaged. She was bundled up in the sheet instead of draped in it, and a hand from out of the picture was painting her toes. 

When Maria tried to peek, Rosa held it to her chest. "What do you think is on it?"

“Hmm...me singing on stage? In a booth at the Crashdown keeping you company at work? Or am I not thinking big enough?”

"Think...vacation," Rosa suggested, teasing. Maria couldn't cheat wearing that necklace, after all. 

“You can be pretty contrary; somewhere snowy? Like, the opposite of the beach. A fancy mountain chalet? That’s more my speed than a cabin in the woods.”

“Ding ding ding,” Rosa said, turning and showing her the image. “Maybe, skiing?” Rosa took the image back, then, and abstracted it up to her specifications—exaggerating Maria’s lips and eyelashes, writing some song lyrics in the window and sketching snowflakes inside, and drawing some tentacles under the bed, because why not? 

This done, Rosa plopped down onto the bed next to her, handing Maria some of the markers to help her color it in. “I should have drawn something crazier, I dunno. What is it about you that makes me  _ less  _ crazy, even when you drive me crazy?” Rosa stuck her tongue out, playfully. 

Overwhelmed, Maria bumped Rosa with her shoulder again, crossing their ankles as they both stretched out on their stomachs to color the picture, and didn’t give her an answer in words.

The ringing of Rosa’s cell phone shattered the pleasantly charged silence between them, and Rosa almost fell off the bed as she scrambled to answer it.

Rosa sat on the other bed, pressing her knees to Maria’s, as Dr. Sandoval herself called with what amounted to an offer of a paid internship in her gallery. There was a lot of other stuff, too, including a few other people who wanted her name, and that a private citizen wanted to buy the piece that had hung at the gala tonight, at a sum that sounded staggering to Rosa but was, according to Dr. Sandoval, “frankly a lowball because they think you don’t know your worth, but I can give you the name if you want to consider the offer.” Rosa stumbled her way through the conversation, already crying by the end as much from joy as from being simply overwhelmed. 

“Yes, yes, absolutely. I’ll call you. I’ll—yeah, I’ll talk to my papi—I mean my dad and—yes, thank you. Thanks, Dr. Sandoval,” Rosa said, and after about a thousand more thank-yous and yeses she barely registered, she hung up. 

Maria had her hands over her mouth to muffle any giggles or squeals throughout Rosa’s whole conversation, but the second the silent phone hit the bed between them, she erupted.

“Oh my god, Rosa, oh my god, you did it!!! Oh my god!!!”

“Maria, oh my God!” Rosa screamed, and the two girls hugged and danced around the room screaming until the neighbor banged on the walls and Rosa started bawling. 

“OhmyGod, I don’t even know why I’m crying?” she wheezed, sitting down again and breathing carefully. “It’s not even like a real job, it’s just an internship. Three days a week. Cancel our plans for trashing the hotel, I gotta stay here two nights a week.” 

Maria was crying too and blaming it on a sympathetic response instead of anything else, like the idea of Rosa going away, being gone for half of every week, the job going full time eventually, Rosa being  _ gone… _

No. No, this was a happy thing. She had to be happy for Rosa, couldn’t hold her back.

“I wish we’d gotten that bottle of wine now. To celebrate,” she said.

“It’s a celebration any time you’re with me, Maria,” Rosa said, suddenly going soft and mushy, since they were crying, anyway. She reached up to touch Maria’s cheek with a palm, thumbing away her tears. “Always has been. Not because you’re the party friend but because you, um. Just being your friend is reason to celebrate. Thanks for being here, babe,” she finished, pulling Maria into a hug.

Maria buried her face in Rosa’s neck and held her tight. This was nice. This was so nice. How did it compare to holding Michael, being held by him? It didn’t seem fair to compare them, to weigh them against each other like that—all Maria knew was that she never wanted to let Rosa go.

Actually, she  _ wanted _ to kiss her, but couldn’t, not until she was—sure. Not until she wouldn’t stand a chance of hurting her. No.

“I wouldn’t have missed it for the world,” she spoke into Rosa’s skin.


	13. Chapter 13

“I just want you to be _safe_ ,” Rosa said, mouth wide and voice pitched high with teasing. 

Liz, too, was giggling uncontrollably as Rosa tried a second time to stuff a box’s worth of condoms into his backpack, spilling most of them. 

“Wait!” Liz said, and ran back to her room, re-emerging with a bottle of lube whose label she was reading studiously. “I’m just checking that it says it’s okay for butt stuff…” 

“Oh my God, _Elizabeth_!” Rosa cackled, torn between being worried and impressed. 

“You’re going to get laid sooner than I am at this rate. You were right about Max,” Liz said solemnly, handing him the bottle of “Pjur Woman Aqua” lubricant. 

“You guys are the _worst,_ ” Michael groaned, flopping back down onto his bed and throwing his arm over his eyes. He’d gotten so tall that his feet hung over the end of his old bed, but that was okay. Right now it made him look more put-upon.

Smirking, Liz tucked the bottle of lube into Michael’s bag anyway.

Arturo called them from downstairs. “Miguel! Alex is here! ¡Ándale!” 

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” Rosa told him delightedly. 

“Seriously, use the condoms. I haven’t figured out if you aliens can get pregnant or not yet,” Liz told him solemnly. 

“You know we’re not even dating, right?” Michael groused, shouldering his bag and shoving past his sisters.

“ _Yet_!” they chorused.

Michael clattered down the stairs, hugging his dad as he went, and then he was out in the diner looking at Alex waving at him, a grin on his handsome face. His stomach swooped, and his face broke into a splitting grin as he waved back.

Then the girls, shrieking, ran past him to hug Alex. 

“Do you want shakes?” Arturo asked, in his not exactly taking no for an answer voice. Two paper bags full of burgers, fries, and corn dogs sat on the counter in front of Alex, and Arturo was already scooping ice cream to make shakes. “You need shakes, you are skin and bones, and I won’t have you arriving hungry. Miguel, saque los rollos de canela del congelador y envuélvalos en una toalla. Pide perdón de la señora Melinda que solo haya una docena. Y que no te olvides devolverme la bandeja.” 

Michael laughed but took Alex’s bag from him and set it down and slung his long legs over a bar stool to wait for the shakes to be done. “Dad, it’s not like we’re driving to the Olympic Peninsula, it’s just a few hours. We won’t expire.”

Arturo flicked a towel at him. “Go get the cinnamon rolls! I won’t have you showing up as a guest empty-handed!” 

Rosa, like the champ she was, was already coming through the door with the cinnamon rolls wrapped in a towel, and set these, too, in front of the boys. “I’m _intensely_ jealous of these, I hope you know. Next time, Al, you take me. I miss making fun of Flint to his dumb face.” 

“There’s a whole ‘nother tray in here just for us!” Liz cried from the kitchen, but she was drowned out by the whirring of the blenders. 

Alex stared bemused at all the food. “Mimi sent me with a bottle of wine, too. Like I’m not going to my own mother’s house.” 

“What should we do, let your Mami think we don’t take care of you, hm?”

Alex grinned at Mr. Ortecho fondly. “No, sir. Guess not.” 

Michael packed the cinnamon rolls carefully in the cooler Arturo had set aside. “Want me to take your bag out to the car?” He asked Alex, trying not to blush too hard at the thought of all those hours, just the two of them in the car.

“Nah, I’ve got too many electronics in here, I don’t want them overheating in the car, I got it,” Alex said, patting Michael’s shoulder until he relaxed. “I really appreciate this, Mr. Ortecho. We won’t arrive until after dinner so I planned to get something on the road. This’ll be so much better.” 

Arturo puffed out his chest a little and beamed at Alex, setting the two shakes next to the food bag. Michael added some water bottles to the cooler too, then straightened up, wiping his wet hands off on his pants.

“Are we all set, then?”

“Guess so,” Alex said, shouldering his bag and grabbing the shakes. “I’ll bring him back in one piece, girls, I promise.” 

“Ooh, don’t make promises you can’t keep,” Rosa told him, punching his arm. Alex had the presence of mind to roll his eyes and turn away to hide his blush. 

Even though it was October, the day was warm enough that they both winced when they stepped outside. Michael, at least, would suffer less baking in the sun than Alex would with his penchant for black clothing, but that only made a pulse of worry run through him. Was he underdressed? Oh my god, Alex’s family was going to hate him—

"I've got gas money covered," Alex said, arranging all their crap behind the seats and at Alex's feet and between them. At this rate he was going to have to eat his way over to Michael. "And no complaints. It’s thanks for letting us take your truck. And your dad is so sweet."

Michael let some of his tension out with a long breath and smiled over at Alex. “Yeah. He’s the best.”

With the cooler between them. Alex used it as an arm rest, and at only fifteen minutes down the road, Michael was already itching to reach over and take his hand. 

Flexing his fingers around the wheel, he tried to distract himself with conversation instead.

“So Greg’s gonna be there—how about Flint? Clay? Is he back stateside yet?”

“No, Clay’s in Afghanistan, I think. Flint’s staying with grandma and grandpa so you can have his room. We’ll see Greg. We could stay with him, but his house is really small and kinda shitty. My mom’s house is nice. Kinda like the Evans’s,” Alex said, preparing Michael for the reality. “I never know how to dress. I’m always somehow underdressed at my mom’s and overdressed at grandma’s.” 

He didn’t exactly have to explain poverty or systemic racism to Michael, but he tried: even though his mom’s family was well-off—they kept horses, for one thing, and lived and worked in the touristy areas around Window Rock—they sometimes didn’t have reliable running water or power, or else friends or neighbors or extended family didn’t, so they let other people stay with them a lot of the time. 

Alex took a deep breath after this explanation. “I was thinking we’d do a lot of the touristy outdoorsy stuff. Fishing? Hiking? You like horses, right? There’s museums, too, we’ll definitely hit those.” 

Michael straightened up a little, flashing Alex a grin. “Uh, I think you mean childhood dream come true. We never had money for lessons or anything, but I’ve always wanted to ride a horse.” Then he turned his eyes back to the road and rubbed the back of his neck. “But I, uh, I could’ve slept on the floor or something if Flint wanted to stay…”

The last thing he needed was to give Flint a _reason_ to hate him.

Alex’s brain briefly supplied a version of events where he and Michael had to share a bed, but luckily that was not at all what Michael was concerned about, so he could save that fantasy for later. 

“Are you kidding? Flint loves staying with grandma and grandpa. And he’s always, like, fixing up the house for them, and stuff, so they love it, too. I think it’s good for him. I don’t know if it’s a complete turnaround but he’s much less douchey when he’s on the Rez, I promise,” Alex said. “Don’t worry. Even when it’s just me staying, Mom makes him leave half the time so we don’t fight. He’s used to it.” 

Michael shrugged, still a little uncomfortable, but it was Alex’s family—he knew best. “Okay. I’m...glad things have worked out for Flint, I guess. How...how do you feel about it? About your family situation these days?” 

“If literally the only thing was that Flint bought out of the American military-industrial bullshit mentality, I’d be happy,” Alex huffed, and then made himself laugh. “I genuinely honestly see my mom’s side of the family _more_ , now, which is great. But I get to live with Maria, and see Liz and Rosa and...you.” 

Alex swallowed, both of them keeping their eyes on the road. “It’s important to me. To have gotten to stay with you guys. I wouldn’t change it.” 

Michael glanced over again, just a quick flash of his eyes, to catch a glimpse of Alex in profile, edged by the sunlight streaming in through the windows. Swallowing heavily, he reached over to rub Alex’s shoulder.

“I’m glad, too,” he said.

…

They arrived after dark, having polished off their to-go dinners on a picnic table just off the highway on Route 66. They ate while the sun was setting and the wind was whipping their hair and clothes and nearly making off with their cold fries. The landscape around them had changed from yellow flatlands as far as the eye could see to mountainous horizons, textures, and a variety of colors. There were caves around here to rival the ones around Roswell, and they waited until it got dark to watch the bats come out before driving the rest of the way into town. 

Mindy’s house looked neat and new from the outside, in the standard adobe style, with well-manicured xeriscaping out front. It really did look like the Evans’s house. 

Alex let himself and Michael in with his own key, since the lights were out in most of the house. It wasn’t that late, but Alex checked his watch anyway. 

“Mom?” he called softly, in case she was asleep or something, instructing Michael where to set his bags down and pointing out the bathroom while he wents snooping. The house was clean and uncluttered, almost minimalist, except for the Native art that absolutely covered the walls. 

In the back office, however, the mess was obvious, and Mindy emerged, hair in a messy ponytail and huge glasses askew. 

“Oh my gosh, Alex!” she said, padding out and turning on lights as she hugged her son. She looked about Mimi’s age—so, _young_ —and was very tall, like Greg took after her the most. “What time is it? I’m sorry, I got stuck on some work, sweetheart.” 

She blinked, uncrossing her eyes, and rubbed them. “Woo, I was on that for a while. You must be Michael. Alex has told me so much about you! I’m so glad you’re visiting us. Did you guys eat?” 

Mindy stuck out her hand for Michael to shake. 

Michael smiled and took it, some of his anxiety lifting automatically at the warm welcome. “Yes, ma’am,” he said. “And my dad—um, that is, Mr. Ortecho—sent us with a batch of cinnamon rolls for you. It’s great to meet you too. Thank you so much for having me.”

If he was blushing at the knowledge that Alex apparently talked about him, Mindy was polite enough not to mention it, though the second Michael turned his back to fetch the cooler, she winked at her son, who went just as red.

“Oh, Mr. Ortecho is so sweet,” Mindy said, taking the cinnamon rolls and looking a little helplessly at them. “Do they go in the fridge or freezer?” 

“Mom,” Alex said, a little tired, and took them from her to put them in the fridge. “We were thinking we can bake them and take them over to grandma and grandpa’s tomorrow. Michael works at the Crashdown, too.” 

“Ooh, don’t tell grandma that, she’ll put you to work in the kitchen,” Mindy laughed. “You boys must be tired, did Alex show you where the bathroom is?” 

“Yes, mom,” Alex said. “I can give him the tour.” 

“Mi casa es su casa,” she told them, backing off. “You’re hungry, eat anything you find. We have refrigerated air in this place, so no need to crack the windows. Uhh, don’t go into my office, it’s a disaster. And Alex can show you Flint’s room. Actually, let me make sure he cleaned it like I asked.”

“It’s cool, Mom, I’ll just break anything he didn’t put away,” Alex teased. 

Mindy frowned at her son, and ruffled his hair. “Come here, kiddo,” she said, and hugged him again. “You still waffling on UNM? Applications are due soon.” 

“Ugh, I don’t want to talk about computers with you when it’s this late,” Alex said, acting exhausted but grinning. “It hurts my brain.”

Michael’s heart leapt and stuttered at the mention of UNM—and Alex. That Alex would be considering...that they might get to spend the next four years…

Alex led the way out of the kitchen, flipping on more lights. “Come on, Michael, I’ll show you the place. Mom, you’re like a vampire! Turn on the lights.” 

“I was working!” she laughed. “You boys have a good night. What time do you want to get going in the morning? Or do you want to be on your own?”

“I think Greg is coming by to get us. But you’re gonna want some of these cinnamon rolls, so you should come, too.” 

Michael shook himself out of his thoughts and followed Alex down the hall, saying a quick goodnight to Mindy, trying to focus on not saying out loud how much he wished he _was_ sleeping on Alex’s floor instead.

“Your mom seems really nice,” he said when they were alone, eyes tracking Alex’s shoulders as he tossed his bag on his bed.

“She is,” Alex said. She didn’t feel as much like a mom as Mimi did, but they had a perfectly functional relationship. And he was becoming more and more like her the older he got, which was its own weird thing. At least he had better taste in men. 

Alex turned down Flint’s sheets to make sure they were actually clean and there wasn’t a snake’s head under the pillow or anything, but they smelled like mom’s fabric softener and were made with the standard Manes Man tight military corners. Flint had even put his shit away and vacuumed, so Alex had nothing to complain about in here. Alex had no idea what to think about the lived-in touches all around the room—the covered workbench on one side of the room, the smell of wood shavings, the loom in the corner with a little sign on it warning what Flint would do to anyone who touched it...

So he just said, “Okay, here you go. Bathroom’s right next to you, I’m across the hall. I’ll shower in the morning. Let me grab you a towel in case you want to shower tonight.” 

Alex had been to enough sleepovers with Michael to know his showering habits, even, but there were usually other people around to buffer the intensity of knowing he was sleeping under the same roof as his six-year crush. When he returned with the towel, Michael hadn’t moved. “We can stay up and play video games, my mom has all the consoles. I guess it’s only 9:00. When do you want to wake up tomorrow? I’ll text Greg.” 

“Does she have _Street Fighter_? I’ll kick your ass any day of the week,” Michael said. “We can get up as early as you want; between trying to get time in the bathroom before school and opening the diner, it’s not like i’m not used to it.”

“I thought your showering at night habits were so you _didn’t_ have to fight for the bathroom in the morning,” Alex chuckled, dropping his own bag off and leading the way to the den where his mom had a huge TV and a bunch of consoles set up. “I’m telling you, she’s got everything. It’s very tempting to just stay in here all summer playing video games all day.” 

While the game loaded, Alex opened a text to Greg: _Got in safe. 9ish tomorrow? We’ve got cinnamon rolls to take to grandma’s._

Greg texted him back right away. _Good! Was starting to worry. Are these Crashdown cinnamon rolls? If so, they might get lost en route… JK. See you tomorrow at 9._

“Believe it or not,” Michael tossed his curls for dramatic effect, making them fall directly into his eyes, “I don’t wake up like this. I think I spend more time on my hair than Liz and Rosa do—trust me, they’ll tell you all about it.”

Alex spluttered with laughter as he hunted down a second controller. “I knew your curl wasn’t natural,” he teased, dropping the controller into his lap. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Our depiction of Window Rock and the Navajo Nation is purely fictional, based on secondary research and not firsthand experience. While we don't strive for realism, per se, in a fanfiction about aliens, we do strive for sensitivity, and welcome any constructive criticism in that regard.
> 
> Arturo's Spanish translation courtesy of Mythras_Fire again! "Michael, go get the cinnamon rolls from the freezer, wrap them in a towel. Apologize to Melinda that it is only a dozen. And don’t forget to bring my pan back."
> 
> Also, thanks for your patience as we switch to a once-a-week posting schedule for the month of October, while both Hal and Maeg are writing too many things at once!


	14. Chapter 14

The next morning’s drive to Window Rock was only about 30 minutes, but it was pure torture because they had to smell the freshly-baked cinnamon rolls the entire time. 

“I remember visiting the Crashdown when me and Mimi were in high school,” Mindy said from the passenger seat of Greg’s sensible 90s SUV. “And he repays me for years of being a loyal customer with this torture?” 

“Mom, we could have just eaten them at home,” Greg said mildly. 

“Maybe we should have! Except these rolls are huge! I can only eat about five myself!” she complained, turning around in the seat. “Michael, maybe you could give me one now?” 

“Mom, we’re almost there,” Alex said, rolling his eyes, though his stomach was rumbling, too. “I’m sure grandma’s cooking something, too.” 

Gallup wasn’t measurably different from Roswell, but Window Rock was definitely smaller and more spread-out. What struck Michael as similar to Roswell was all the tourist-accommodations, but much of the signage and place-names were written in Diné as well as English. Greg and Mindy both pointed out spots of interest as they drove, suggesting activities Alex and Michael might get up to. 

“The Navajo Nation Museum is a good place to start, of course,” Greg pointed out. “And obviously the Window Rock monument and the Veterans Memorial Tribal Park. We also have a zoo that’s pretty neat. I’m taking my students there soon.” 

“I’m down for anything,” Michael said, laser focused on the world outside the window, waiting for the horses to come into view.

The Benally home wasn’t too far from the center of town. Though it was obviously old, it seemed well-kept and spacious, and there was a barn and ample grazing ground for their animals. 

“They keep chickens, goats, and some horses for some of the horseback riding groups around here. My brother Jim runs one of them,” Mindy explained. 

Michael said, “I almost worked a summer at Fosters’ Ranch back in Roswell, but Dad needed me at the diner after all, so I can’t wait to see the animals.”

“God, I miss the Crashdown,” Greg groaned as they pulled into the long drive. “I should visit Roswell soon just for the space jam.”

“Oh, Gregory, why would you do a thing like that to your poor mother,” Mindy moaned. “Alright, Michael, here’s the deal. Next time you visit, space jam. Got it?” 

They were greeted by three children and two goats as they parked the car. 

“I guess Desbah brought the kids,” Mindy said. 

“Aaaaaaleeeeeex!” the kids screamed. The goats just screamed. 

“ _I’m_ usually the favorite cousin,” Greg lamented, as he held the door for Michael and offered to hold the rolls. “But as soon as Alex visits, I’m chopped liver.” 

Alex, meanwhile, looked a little overwhelmed by the attention from the tiny tots, but managed to greet them all by name. The smallest started crying when Alex didn’t pick her up. 

“Oh, come on, Tiffany, you can walk, you’re a big girl, come on,” Alex encouraged, taking her hand. 

She sniffled and grabbed at his pant leg instead, but got with the program as Alex laughed softly and started trying to walk with her clinging onto him.

Michael shoved his hands in his pockets and smiled at the scene. He turned to Greg and said, “I can take those back if you want to grab a kid.”

“Nah, you go ahead. They’ll warm up to you quick, especially since Alex likes you. Everything Alex likes is cool.” Greg winked, and Michael blushed, hurrying after Alex and the gaggle of baby cousins.

The children were instinctively very shy of Michael. Tiffany started crying harder and tripping Alex as Michael followed them. 

“Tiff—Tiff— _Tiffany_ ,” Alex said, frustrated. “That’s my friend Michael. He’s not scary at all. He’s a friend from school. He brought you guys cinnamon rolls…”

This garnered some interest from the older boy and girl. They peered at Michael, but saw that Greg was clearly carrying the cinnamon rolls, and followed him. 

“Desbaaaahhh…” Alex complained, waddling inside with Tiffany attached to his leg (bad leg, thank you), and whining. “Hi, grandma, hi, grandpa!” he called as he came in.

Michael avoided the bustle of the house for just a few more seconds, just to steel himself but not so long he’d be missed. But as he stood there staring over the fence, he got distracted by the tiny peeping of a baby chicken toddling past his feet.

Crouching, he scooped it up. “Where’d you come from, little guy?”

The hole in the bottom of the fence just a few feet away provided a quick and clear answer, so Michael walked over, deposited the baby on the right side of the fence, and, making sure no one was looking, used his telekinesis to bend the fence back into place to prevent another escape. 

“There you go. Go back to your mama, now.”

Still peeping loudly, the baby did just that, booking it across the ground to the henhouse.

“Making friends, Michael?” Mindy asked, bringing up the rear as Greg disappeared indoors.

“Um. Yes, ma’am.”

In addition to the other animals, there were two dogs, sweet-natured and dopey, running around. They whined at Alex until he petted them, but quickly rushed over to investigate the newcomer. 

“Sassy, Sammy, down!” an elderly woman snapped, waddling over with a hand-carved cane to hug Alex. Behind her, an old man sat at the TV with Flint. Flint gave them a nod: the old man didn’t look up. Another woman who must have been Desbah was stirring something on the stove. 

The elderly woman stepped up to Michael, reaching out with both hands. “You must be Alex’s friend.” 

“Yes, ma’am.” 

Michael let her take his hands and glanced up at Alex, still surrounded by his family but with a spare moment to look up and meet his eyes as if by magnetism, a glowing, soft joy radiating from his smile.

“He’s—very important to me,” Michael said. 

Flint snorted out a laugh and went to the kitchen to fill up his grandfather’s drink (some kind of tea from the fridge by the looks of it), but he didn’t look angry or give Michael so much as a mistrustful glance as he passed. His hair had grown out long, longer than Alex’s.

"He's important to us, too," she said with a wink, and patted Michael's hand. "You can call me grandma, too."

Flint of all people rescued Alex from the baby, flipping her upside down and making her giggle. A whirlwind of introductions followed. Learning that the cinnamon rolls were from Michael made him very interesting to everyone, and Grandma in particular beckoned him over to the stove to look at what she was making. It appeared to be a breakfast burrito hash, though just the meat and potatoes, missing the cheese and chile that Michael was used to. 

"Grandpa can't have chile anymore, so we go plain. I put a little corn meal in because it's good for you," Grandma explained, stirring the large pan. It looked like way more scrambled eggs than anyone could eat, but there were a lot of people here. "Did you make the cinnamon rolls?"

“No, ma’am. They’re a gift from my dad—though I hope he’ll teach me the recipe before I leave for school. No better way to make friends than with the smell of baking.”

“I keep trying to tell Alex that. But maybe he does okay without.” 

There was a shrieking in the other room as Flint tossed Tiffany to Greg and she went wild with giggles as she sailed through the air. After passing her back, Greg chased the other kids outside, greeted by the dogs who leapt up again in their excitement.

The house wasn’t _too_ quiet without them, but it was less chaotic. Mindy tore a piece off a cinnamon roll and said to the room, “Maybe Desbah should hire my boys. Professional child-wranglers.”

“More cinnamon rolls for me,” Alex said, perhaps not counting himself among the ‘child-wranglers.’ “Smells good, grandma. Can I set the table?” 

“We’ll do buffet-style,” she said, pointing at a stack of plates in a cabinet until Mindy got them down for her. “Michael, why don’t you head the line? How fat do you want your burrito?” 

“I should probably load up,” he said, shooting Alex a bashful smile from down the line, “I think—I hope—Alex plans to keep me busy today. I might need the energy.”

Flint let out another snort-laugh, and Mindy thumped him in the back of the head. Michael’s ears burned.

Remembering his manners, he rushed out the next words as if Arturo might appear to smite him. “But I don’t have to go first—you did the cooking, ma’am—”

"I said call me Grandma," she said, almost smiling, but mostly stern. "And you're right. They know how to eat, we don't have to serve them! I'll go first, to show you how it's done. And you come back with the recipe for those cinnamon rolls, or you don't come back at all."

Alex was behind Michael with a plate. "You just do whatever Grandma says. It's easier for everyone." He called back, showing he was holding two plates, "I'll make a plate for Kai or DJ, whoever wants to eat first." 

"Me! Meeeee!" said the middle girl, running back inside so fast the door slammed. "Me please, Alex!"

“Okay, DJ, okay,” Alex laughed. “I gotta get food for me, too.”

“I’ll get the kids’ plates,” Michael offered. “I won’t starve, I can eat a cinnamon roll while I do it, I’m good like that.”

Alex laughed a little and shook his head. “You really don’t know the meaning of the word ‘guest,’ do you?”

“I learned hospitality from Arturo Ortecho, man, what do you want from me?” Michael laughed along. “Anyway...I like kids. And it’s not that often I get to hang out with ‘em, y’know?”

Then, embarrassed, he turned away to start assembling child-sized burritos.

It was...painfully cute, how much care Michael took with plating attractive dishes—one even for Tiffany that smiled back at her and made her shriek in delight and dive from Greg’s arms into Michael’s to hug him, whether he was ready or not. 

“Michael, sit down!” Alex scolded. “Or we’ll be playing with the horses while you’re still eating.” 

“Okay, okay.”

He left the food and went to sit with Alex, while behind them Tiffany said, “Greg-or-y,” sounding each syllable out with careful clarity, “Do I eat the eyes or the mouth first?”

“The mouth, obviously,” Flint cut in. “So the little monster can’t talk back…”

“Flint,” Greg half-scolded, but Flint didn’t take offense.

He fired back, “What, should I encourage her to blind the poor thing?”

“That’s morbid,” Grandma scolded, but patted Michael’s hand. “Are you boys going to trail ride?” 

“Oh no, Grandma. Michael’s never ridden a horse before,” Alex said. “We’ll start just around the paddock.”

“Oh, maybe I’ll hang out and watch,” Flint said, eyes sparkling. “See somebody get bucked.”

Michael snorted. “Take pictures or Rosa will find you.”

Alex sighed.

…

Later, after Michael _insisted_ on helping wash up, they finally went out to meet the horses. Tiffany sacked out after eating, but DJ and Kai wanted to come with them, and DJ was currently riding on Michael’s shoulders while Alex carried Kai. 

“You’re getting too big for this, you know,” Alex told Kai. “We’re gonna scare the horses.” 

“Nope, they’re not scared of me,” Kai declared, pushing up his glasses. 

“You can help _me_ not scare them, then,” Michael said. “And DJ, you can help me pick a nice horse who’s got a lot of patience for beginners, right?”

“Sure! I know all the horsies,” she said confidently.

Sure enough, the kids grew calm around the horses, sure and not too sudden with their movements, explaining to Michael, “You’ve got to be calm and quiet,” quite earnestly. 

“Listen to them. They know more than Alex does,” Flint said, touching his nose as he went in ahead of them to the stables. 

Alex rolled his eyes. 

DJ grabbed Michael’s head, turning him to look at a kind of old-looking horse with a white spot on his—her?—nose. “That’s Samantha. She’s old and sweet. I wanna ride her.” 

“Desi,” Flint said, firm but surprisingly gentle, “you know we can’t ride her, she’s lame.” 

“Awwwww…”

“You should ride Tansy!” Kai said. “Tansy is my favorite.”

“You just like her because Mom does,” DJ said, like it was the height of insult. 

“Who do you usually ride?” Michael asked Alex.

"Oh, uh, I don't _usually_ —" Alex began, a little embarrassed, until Flint flicked open one of the stalls and heaved himself up onto a horse without saddle or bridle and tore out into the paddock with a _Heeyah!_

At this display, Alex looked suddenly fratricidal. 

"Oh my God, don't be such a show-off, Flint!" Greg scolded, waving him away with a laugh. "Ignore him. He practices all the time. Tansy is a great horse for a beginner, Michael. Kai, do you want to let Michael ride Tansy with you?"

“No, I want to ride by myself, I want to ride like Flint does, I’m big enough—“ Kai began, a maniacal glint in his eyes, and Greg let out a long-suffering sigh.

“You can ride with _me_ , Michael,” DJ said sweetly.

“Watch out, Alex might get jealous,” Greg teased.

DJ made an affronted sound, and squeezed Michael's head. "He's my boyfriend now, Alex!" she bellowed. 

Alex glared at Greg, who laughed nervously and scooped Kai up onto Tansy's back. 

Perhaps because everyone had stopped watching him show off, Flint walked his horse back to the group. 

“C’mon, Kai, you’re with me. We’re gonna go way fast; staying with Michael and Alex is going to be boring stuff, learning, like school. You don’t want to do extra school work on a weekend, do you?”

“I like school…” But Kai thought about this for a second, then bobbed his head up and down. “But I wanna go fast! Sorry, Michael.”

“It’s okay, Kai. We can ride together some other time, okay? Once I’m not a rookie anymore.”

Flint hauled Kai over onto his horse, wrapping an arm around the child while still clinging to the horse’s back just by gripping his mane and holding him with his knees. It was impressive, and it obviously irritated Alex, who turned to start wrestling tack down from hooks in the walls. 

“Well, you oughta ride Tansy, then, Michael,” Greg suggested. “Maybe DJ can stay with me…”

DJ sucked in a breath to scream, and Greg held up his hands. “And make sure Samantha gets a nice walk and brush.” 

“Oh!” DJ said, scrambling down from Michael’s shoulders and over to Greg. 

“Alex’ll get you set up,” Greg said, almost winking as he took DJ over to Samantha’s stall. 

It was the first time Michael and Alex had been alone all morning, and all the air in the stable was sucked out as Greg walked away, leaving Michael floundering for something to say.

“Your family is amazing,” he blurted out, then cringed slightly, hoping no one heard that.

Alex huffed, still not looking at Michael, still _seething_ for some reason. “Take that back. I’m going to eviscerate Flint and bury him out in the desert.” 

“Why?” Michael asked, going into defense mode, “Did he say something to you? Are you okay?”

"He just—" Alex gestured vaguely, like, _did you not just see that?_ But when he turned around, Michael was so close and his face so open and tender that Alex couldn't stay mad, not even at his brother. "Ah, never mind. He's trying to rile me up. And I'm letting it work. He's the better horseman, whatever. He probably knows how to shoot better than me by now, too, just to be obnoxious."

Alex rolled his eyes, but he was smiling as he handed Michael a handful of tack. "Come on, let's get you on Tansy."

“Okay, but you’re gonna have to show me how all this stuff goes.”

And Alex did, gently guiding him to the right way for each strap and buckle to go, then the right way to mount, then the right way to sit, and after what could have been minutes or hours, Alex was leading them out into the paddock, where Flint and Kai were nowhere to be seen, but Greg and DJ were hanging out with Samantha over in the corner.

“Hey, um, Alex?” Michael said, not sure how to say this, hoping he wasn’t out of line. “Does Flint do stuff like this a lot? Does...I mean, do you feel like....” Frustrated, he cut himself off to search harder for the right words, and then he said, “I know your dad dying changed a lot. So, um, if you want to talk about it, you can.”

Alex petted Tansy’s nose so he wouldn’t have to look at Michael just yet, but finally he moved to one side, idly petting her neck before touching Michael’s knee. 

“Nah, it’s fine,” he finally said, finally looking up at Michael, both of them squinting in the bright sun. It made it easier to hide his feelings. “Just dumb competitive brother stuff. Before, it was about being the better soldier, now it’s who is more Native or something. Whatever. I promise I do know enough about horses to get you started, and Tansy’s really forgiving. Ah. Unlike me.”

Alex chuckled and let go of the lead, taking a few steps back. Tansy waited patiently. 

“I never doubted you,” Michael said softly. Tansy snorted at him.

He nudged her into a walk and grinned enormously when she obeyed, but he kept himself from whooping so he didn’t scare her. 

“Exactly, great job,” Alex praised, face breaking out into a smile. “And then you gently guide the reins the way you want her to go. It’s easier with both hands. And she stops real good to whoa, but honestly if you just stop nudging her with your heels she’ll kinda slow down and eventually get bored and stop. We like to say Tansy’s got a failsafe on her.” 

“Who’s a good girl,” Michael cooed like she was a puppy rather than a beast multiple times his weight and height, stroking her neck, already infatuated. Then, looking down at Alex, he said, “Are you going to ride too? You don’t have to wait on me; if I get bucked I’ll probably have deserved it. Isn’t that right, Tansy?”

“Yeah, I just wanted to make sure you were settled. Looking good,” Alex concluded, hand running down the length of Michael’s leg as headed back into the barn. 

“Michael! Come meet Samantha,” DJ demanded from her perch on the fence, where Samantha was happily munching oats from DJ’s tiny hands while Greg gave her a thorough brush down. 

“Tell him how old Samantha is, DJ, you remember?” Greg asked, when Michael made his way over to them.

“She is...seventy...two...million,” DJ giggled, hugging the horse’s neck. “And she’s gonna live forever!” 

“Wow, that’s amazing, DJ,” Michael said. “And how old are you? Four thousand? I’m eighty three hundred, myself.”

DJ giggled uproariously. "Nooo, I'm only...two hundred!" 

Alex rode out with a smile on his face. "This is Cloud. I got to name him and I was obsessed with _Final Fantasy_ at the time…"

It helped that the horse was white-ish.

“Oh yeah, I remember that summer,” Michael said with a grin. Apart from enough Street Fighter to be able to beat Rosa when they played at Maria’s house, Michael had never played many video games by nature of not being able to afford them. But that didn’t mean he didn’t treasure the entire summer he spent lounging on the couch, feet behind Alex’s back, watching him play and listening to the passion in his voice when he talked about it.

Alex was blushing, which was just completely unnecessary, but his body was just doing whatever the hell it wanted today, apparently. 

“So, uh, how are you feeling moving with her?” Alex asked Michael, demonstrating with exaggerated movements how to move around the paddock with the horses. 

“Tansy’s real good, she’ll spoil you,” Greg warned. “You pull back on her and she’ll go backwards or whatever you want. Alex pulls back on Cloud and she’ll dump him.”

“Do you want me to illustrate?” Alex asked, tightening his knees and gripping the saddle horn as he prepared for Cloud to rear up—which she did the moment Alex tugged even lightly back on the reins. He laughed and exclaimed, but stayed on as Cloud came back down with a loud harrumph. “See?” 

DJ giggled and clapped. 

Ever-helpful, Greg distracted DJ again to give Michael and Alex some alone time as they began walking the paddock in slow circles.

“Thank you for inviting me,” Michael said, again, running his hand down Tansy’s neck and watching its progress instead of making eye contact with Alex. Then he looked over at him through his lashes and continued, “Your family is...amazing.”

“You keep saying that,” Alex huffed, shaking his head. He stuck his tongue out playfully. “I’m gonna tell Liz you think her family leaves something to be desired.” 

“Ouch, man, that’s cold,” Michael said, clutching his chest. “Nah, it’s just...I dunno, the size of my family is great, but yours…all these people, all different ages, all the branches coming together...it’s incredible. That’s all.”

Alex actually turned to look at Michael directly, surprised by that. “You... want a big family?” Then, in case that was too personal or whatever, he amended, “I mean, you kind of already have, like—you know, your Earth-family and your other family.” 

“I love having four siblings, even if it’s kind of weird to word it that way since Max and Liz are going to be dating any day now. But, um, yeah, I don’t know, it’s just nice to be part of something, I think. I know being related doesn’t always mean anything—hell, I’ve still never met Liz and Rosa’s mom—but it’s...nice.”

“Oh, you don’t want to meet her, she’s pretty horrible,” Alex said mildly, because they both knew _horrible_ was extremely relative. “But you’re right. It is nice to be a part of this, in a way I couldn’t be before…” Alex pressed his lips together, moved on. “I’m glad you’re here. You’re a part of this, too.” 

“I want to be a part of anything you want me to,” Michael blurted out, words all twisted up and awkward, and then he nudged Tansy again, hoping it would make her go faster and carry him away from his embarrassment.

Alex just chuckled softly, at Michael and at himself. He thought about asking 'Anything?' but his brother and his cousin were right there, and Flint and Kai had shown up again, windswept and smiling. "Let's make some sandwiches and go on a trail ride. Just you and me."

“Are you sure? I just wanna do right by Tansy, y’know,” Michael said, rubbing her neck again.

"They need a nice chill ride," Alex said, stopping Cloud over by Samantha and illustrating a dismount for Michael. "If you can pass the test of getting down without falling, we'll call the lesson over." 

DJ, clearly obsessed, was braiding Samantha's mane and not looking up. 

"You won't get lost?" Greg asked, with a mischievous smile on his face, like he knew something was up, the little shit. "I could send Flint to keep an eye on—"

"NO," Alex and Flint said simultaneously. 

And Flint snickered at the look on Alex’s face—meanly, but not hatefully—and said, “I’ll tell Mom you’re going. Be back sometime not long after noon if you want to get lunch.”

Michael’s stomach fluttered, ready to be alone with Alex for real, and maybe...talk to him. About stuff. Maria’s words rang loud in his ears, and maybe...maybe it was time.

"You're not offering to make sandwiches for us to get us out of your hair?" Alex asked snidely, but also not hatefully. 

"Oh, it's _that_ kind of trail ride," Flint said, and looked at his phone, grinning to himself. 

Alex just rolled his eyes and dragged Michael back inside the house. 

Fifteen minutes later they were back on their horses, armed with a quick picnic lunch that was just pretty plain sandwiches and water, but Alex was in a hurry. Greg loaned them both hats, and told them not to be late because he had a boys night out planned. 

"Also Grandma will kill me if I'm late for dinner," Alex said, tightening the saddle bags with their food. "If we're not back by five, send the search party out because I got us lost."

…

The trail was quiet, just the sound of the horses’ footsteps keeping them company, as Michael bit his tongue and tried to think about what he should say. What the right combination of words would be to make Alex understand there was nothing standing in their way.

“Um,” he blurted, then cringed at how loud it sounded, then continued, “Can we...can we talk? About the night of homecoming?”

“I—” Alex said, way too excitedly, enough that his voice did a funny thing that it hadn’t done in years, and he coughed. “Yeah. I would really love it if we did that, actually. Oh—Tansy, come on, this is a walk, not a buffet.” 

Tansy was only too happy to pause and eat something leafy she found—a rare enough treat around here, and Cloud stopped to join her. It was in the shade, so Alex let them stop. 

“I, I don’t know how you’re feeling about it now, but,” Michael began, “I wanted to say. I really wanted to wait for you to tell me when you think we’re ready, but, um, I think I should let you know that. I’m ready. Whenever you want me. It’s not an obligation, I don’t want to pressure you, but I think we could be really great together. That’s—that’s all.”

“Ready,” Alex repeated, kind of dumbly, before he recovered. Their horses stepped closer together and their knees touched. “God, Michael, I’ve been ready since the first day you thought I was trying to buy your friendship with comic books.” 

Alex licked his lips, and found himself reaching across the space between them and touching Michael’s knee. “You were just pretending to be interested in those comics and I fell in love with you, anyway.”

“That’s not true!” Michael protested, “Those _Star Trek_ comics ruled. And you didn’t even like me, the first thing I did was piss you off!” 

He laughed, eyes crinkling up at the corners. 

“I couldn’t have been pissed off if I wasn’t instantly obsessed with you,” Alex answered, laughing, too.

“Um. But after homecoming...it kind of sounded like you thought...we weren’t. That you didn’t want to; that you thought you had to do something to make it right before.”

Alex sighed. The horses moved on, and started walking again, which was good because it gave Alex a moment. “Uh, I thought, uh. Well, I was worried about Maria, at first, a bit. You guys were such a good couple, and I was so happy for you, and if I could just keep both of you in my life forever I thought I almost wouldn’t care how. It was safer that way.” 

Alex swallowed. 

“Because every time I think about us being together, I, um, remember, I guess. What my family did to yours.” He blinked, urging his horse a little faster because he couldn’t really look at Michael right now. “And think, how could you want to be with me?” 

Michael sucked in a breath, and something in how he leaned back in the saddle made Tansy stop in her tracks. 

“Alex, hey,” he said. He wanted to reach out and touch Alex’s face, but he was too new to horses to have the confidence to bring Tansy right along Cloud, to get close enough. So he stretched out his hand just halfway and let it fall lamely back down to hold the reins again.

He said, “You’re...you’re not your family, though, I mean. Your dad was a monster, but how could I blame _you_ for that? Mr. Valenti was part of it too, but I mean, I see him, I see the way he tries to atone, I get what it was that made him help me so much over the years now. But you don’t even have anything to atone for. The bad guy is dead, you know? I could _never_ see him when I see you. You have a better family now. You have the DeLucas; you have all of this. Manes is just a name.”

Alex nodded, swallowing hard, and they rode on in silence to the next patch of shade and the next bunch of leaves. This time, Michael reached out to him, taking his hand and squeezing it. Alex stared at their joined hands for a long time. 

“Manes is a legacy,” Alex finally said. “It’s a reminder we all have, me and my brothers, to do better. I want to do better for you, Michael. I want, uh—oh my God this is so dumb—I want to be able to take care of you. And help your mom. I’m serious about you, Michael, and that makes me, uh. That freaks me out. Like I can’t do anything with you until everything’s perfect. Until we’ve graduated, and I’ve talked to Mr. Ortecho, and I’ve saved enough that we could buy a house and get married, only I don’t want you to take my name, and, God, now I know you want _kids_ and I’m still working on fitting that in—”

“Alex! Hey,” Michael said gently but firmly. “We’re seventeen. And I’m going to be at UNM for at least the next four years, and getting married isn’t even legal here, so that’s something that you can put on the backburner, okay? Not—not that I don’t want it someday, but...yeah. It’s okay to just live in the moment sometimes? I’m kind of proof that crazy things can happen any time, literally being a space alien and all. I don’t...I don’t look at you and see a legacy, okay? I can barely even remember your dad’s face, and it’s only going to fade more. I think the best revenge on him is just being yourself. Being happy in the life he never would have let you have.”

Alex laughed even though he felt vaguely like sobbing. "You _do_ make me happy, Michael Ortecho. Like, really, completely, bone-deep happy. Proof that crazy things _can_ happen, I guess."

Alex turned Cloud around so they were facing each other properly. 

Michael’s heart pounded, just looking into Alex’s eyes, so dark and deep and serious but shot through with sunlight. He wanted to kiss him. He wanted to kiss him. He wanted—

“I want to kiss you,” he said out loud.

Alex found himself smirking, possibly to keep himself from fainting. "If we're gonna get married someday, we might want to try that first, yeah."

He leaned in, grabbing Tansy's saddlehorn for stability. "So kiss me."

Michael’s breath caught in his lungs; he licked his bottom lip, and his eyes fell to watch Alex’s, the soft curve of his mouth, parted slightly in anticipation.

It couldn’t be as simple as just leaning in, right? After all this time…

But it was. Their mouths met slowly, gently, until the tingle of excitement and disbelieving pleasure spread from the top of Michael’s head to his toes, and he pushed forward, risking putting one hand against the back of Alex’s head, fingers threaded through his soft hair, to brace him. 

It was simply, honestly, everything he ever imagined it would be. Like standing in a sunset sunbeam cleaning the Crashdown after the dinner rush. Like the whole-body warmth of baking in the garage to play music. Like being wrapped up in blankets in a bed that was built by hand for him, staring at a little red flower that never learned how to wilt.

Home.

The horses pulled them apart, the cockblockers, and Alex laughed and forced Cloud back over, grabbing Michael by the loops in his jeans to kiss him again. He tasted like—like he smelled, that petrichor-y earth-y smell that simply wasn’t fair because he was an alien, why did he smell and taste like Alex’s home planet? 

“Hey, look, uh,” Alex said, tears standing in his eyes and his mouth unwilling to stop smiling, not even to kiss Michael again, “maybe everything’s already perfect.” 

“Maybe it is,” Michael said, “Maybe it is.” 

And he pressed their smiles together again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hijacking the Malex kiss to call attention to the serendipitously timed issue of Tyler Blackburn revealing that he has no Native American ancestry (you can hear him saying this in his own words in this podcast about an hour in: https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/pretty-little-wine-moms/id1515952299). 
> 
> It's a very small part of this chapter and more about our Flint pre!demption than anything else, but believe it or not we wrote Alex's anxiety about "not being Native enough" before all this came up. Take from that what you will. Tyler does portray a good Alex and luckily in fanfic land we're not beholden to the actors, or the show, even, but I hope our readers consider and sit with, as we have been trying to do as well, our willingness to forgive a white able-bodied man playing a disabled man of color when the actresses and their characters of color in the show and women of color in the fandom do not receive a lot of love or forgiveness. 
> 
> Additionally, we would be remiss in using the Navajo Nation as a setting for our fic without mentioning how the COVID-19 pandemic is (still) disproportionately affecting this community. If you feel called and able to donate, the Navajo Times lists some ways to do that: https://navajotimes.com/coronavirus-updates/relief-for-coronavirus/.


	15. Chapter 15

After Alex and Michael got back, Greg took them to see the museums, and after, took them to dinner at the locals bar in Gallup. No one said anything when he ordered beers for them, and they had a great time playing pool and darts, and Alex and Michael almost forgot about how much they'd rather have been anywhere else—as long as they were alone together. The kisses still tingled on their lips like stardust, gravity drawing them together.

"You guys wanna play some video games when we get to Mom's?" Greg asked. "Or, what's the plan tomorrow? Want to turn in early?"

Alex glanced at Michael in the mirror from where he sat right behind him. "I think we're thinking…fishing tomorrow? We can take Michael's truck and leave early."

“Sounds good. I guess you guys better get some sleep, then. Try not to wear each other out too much,” Greg said. He made a more valiant effort to hide his smirk than Flint might have...but not by much. 

“I dunno, I plan to run Alex pretty ragged,” Michael said. “He’s got a lot to catch the newbie up on.”

Alex was glad he was in the back seat where his blush wouldn't show. Was Greg teasing him? What did he know? And was Michael also trying to make him combust? Oh, Alex was going to get him back for that. Somehow. Like maybe by aggressively kissing the snot out of him. He giggled without meaning to.

"...You okay back there?"

"Fantasizing what parts of the fish I'm gonna leave in Flint’s bed, leave me alone," Alex grumped. 

“Have you ever cleaned a fish, Michael?” Greg asked, gracefully allowing the subject to change, despite the teasing being his God-given right as an older brother.

“Nope.”

“Then I’m a little sorry I won’t be there to see your face,” Greg chuckled.

Later, after Greg joined Mindy and them for ice cream and a few rounds of Mario Kart, Alex and Michael stood together over the sink brushing their teeth. 

Or, trying. Alex couldn’t stop giggling every time he caught Michael’s eyes in the mirror. He looked ridiculous like this—they both did—mouths full of foam, cheeks and noses pink from all the sun, unable to stop jostling each other. Watching him, Alex imagined doing this for the rest of his life, brushing his teeth next to Michael Guerin until he was wearing dentures and Michael’s teeth did whatever alien teeth did when they got old. Alex spit first, cupping his hand for water to rinse his mouth. 

“I...should get out of here so you can shower,” Alex said, watching the line of Michael’s long back as he too bent over to rinse his mouth. He backed out before he could do something stupid like join him in the shower. “We really should leave early tomorrow if we want to be at the lake when fish are biting. Can you do five?” 

“Can I do five,” Michael scoffed. “You’re talking to the only thing earlier than the early bird specials, here.”

He stood up, and their eyes met in the mirror for a blazing second. Michael toyed with the hem of his shirt, tongue between his teeth.

“So...showering,” he said, almost hoping Alex  _ would  _ ask, even with his mom just down the hall.

"I'll see you in the morning," Alex said, and then grabbed Michael by the back of the neck with both hands to kiss him. He tasted toothpastey this time, but he still smelled good and felt so warm and yielding and Alex had to pull away before he just backed him into the shower and tore off all his clothes. 

Panting, lips wet, Alex said, "Goodnight."

Oh yeah, his body was definitely going and doing things without his brain's permission. 

“Goodnight,” Michael said dreamily, sliding his hand down Alex’s arm to his hand, which he squeezed then lifted to his lips to kiss before letting him go.

Alex all but fled into his room, shutting the door all the way because, well, he was only human, and the reality of Michael’s kisses combined with the fantasy of Michael in the shower was too much to handle. He managed to rub one out before Michael shut off the water, at least, and got up to throw away the tissues and crack his door open again, mostly because he liked the airflow, but also to get a glimpse—and a scent—of Michael coming out of the shower. 

God, he should really try to fall asleep. They had to be up and on the road in six hours. Did Michael even really like all this outdoorsy stuff or was he just letting Alex drag him around? He’d have to be sure. Maybe they could just stay home all day while his mom was at work…or hang around by a lake all day lounging in the shade, kissing and snuggling and maybe fishing. Alex blushed at the thought, no closer to sleep.

A soft knock sounded at the door, and Alex raised his head to tell his mom goodnight, but it wasn’t either of them. Instead, it was Michael, curls drying in ringlets against his forehead, lit softly by the hall nightlight, and looking at Alex shyly.

“If we buddy up, we can make sure each other gets up on time,” he said. 

“Uhm,” Alex said, his brain completely flatlining for several awkward seconds, long enough for Michael to shift uneasily at the door. Michael wanted to—oh, God—yes, please, but also oh,  _ God _ . 

“Yeah!” Alex all but squeaked, trying to play this cool and not at all succeeding. He scooted across the narrow bed to make room, eyes never leaving Michael’s. He cleared his throat. “Yeah, uh, smart idea.” 

Michael slid into bed beside him, keeping one polite centimeter between their bodies even as his warmth filled up the space beneath the covers.

“We don’t have to...do anything,” he whispered. “I just wanted to be with you.”

"Ha," Alex said, "like I can stop myself when you're right here."

He wrapped an arm around Michael, sliding his other arm underneath his head to draw him closer and into a kiss. 

Then Alex stopped. "Uh, unless you didn't—I mean we seriously should sleep—I mean my mom's right—"

“We can nap tomorrow,” Michael said. “I—I want whatever you want, Alex, I…” 

And he shifted closer to press their foreheads closer and kiss him again.

"Oh,  _ Jesus _ , Michael," Alex whispered, and kissed him again, giddy, like they were getting away with something. Was he  _ trembling _ ? 

“Just me. I did fall from heaven, though?”

“You little shit,” Alex giggled. Okay, he was definitely shaking. He kissed Michael again, running his fingers through his damp hair, hoping Michael wouldn't notice. He slotted his knee in between Michael's legs, feeling bare skin and soft pajamas. "This is working for me so far. You?"

“Good. Good.”

Michael nuzzled into Alex’s palm the next time it passed his face, tightening his thighs around Alex’s leg, rocking his hips. 

“Alex,” he whispered, suddenly choked up, too full of emotion at being in his arms. It didn’t feel  _ real. _

"It's okay, Michael," Alex whispered, lips ghosting over his temple on the way to a kiss. He was drenched in rain smell, enough that Alex actually looked behind him at the window just to check. "I've got you. I'm gonna take care of you."

“I know,” he said. “We’re gonna take care of each other.”

Alex drew back. He was surprised by that, somehow. And he wasn't trembling anymore. "Yeah. I think we are."

… 

The sun was peeking lavender and pink over the horizon when they got to the lake, and a faint chill was still in the air. Michael jumped down from the truck and rubbed his arms with a  _ brr, _ then grabbed the tackle box and camp chairs from the back, leaving the rods and the cooler for Alex.

He set their chairs up as close to each other as possible. He didn’t care if that made actually  _ catching  _ any fish harder.

“If I completely puncture my thumb baiting a hook, will you kiss it better?” he called over his shoulder, grinning to himself as he waited for Alex’s answer.

Alex joined him and sat.

"Please don't hurt yourself for attention. I'll kiss you anyway," Alex said, utterly serious though he was taking care of the poles, already intently focused on baiting the two hooks. Belatedly he looked up and made good on his promise, leaning in to peck Michael on the edge of his mouth. "Have you not figured out healing yet? Is that just a Max thing still?"

“We’re not even totally sure we  _ can  _ do each other’s powers. Isobel thinks she moved something the other day, but Max says she’s full of shit. I haven’t had a lot of chances to practice healing, honestly. Although…” Michael sucked on his lower lip, not sure how much he should reveal. “Um, I do have more than one power, I think. Do you...do you remember that flower you gave me a few years ago?”

Alex blinked, a nervous smile frozen on his face. He'd given Michael a lot of flowers over their friendship, if throwing dandelions at his hair to see if they'd stick counted. "Uh...no? Now I feel terrible. Didn't I give you a flower at Rosa's prom, technically? To give to Maria? Don't tell me you're gene splicing with your brain or something, the Ortechos should really only have the one mad scientist and there's no way we're going to hold Liz back."

Michael blushed bright red and fiddled with the fishing line. “Don’t feel bad! It, um, it was just a little thing, it was that summer before freshman year where we barely saw each other, you brought it back from a camping trip...the Clown Nebula, remember? Well...I still have it. It hasn’t lost even a single petal and it’s just been in a glass on my nightstand this whole time. I, um, I hid it whenever you came over ‘cause I was embarrassed about my massive crush on you.”

Alex blinked, the memory returning crystal clear. Was it fair or right to still hate someone who had died painfully secure in the knowledge that they had failed? Because Alex still could really hate his dad, somedays, moreso the better his life got. The camping trip, the mortifying visit to the Crashdown afterward, Michael puking in the bathroom...the flower had been rather an insignificant part of that exchange, but yes, Alex remembered it. 

"You're shitting me. That thing was on its way out already. You sure you didn't mummify it?" Alex laughed, and handed Michael a pole. 

“Nope, I just kept it alive through the sheer force of my love,” Michael said, fluttering his lashes at Alex, really slathering on the cheese. The tips of his ears were already pinked by the cold, but they went even redder.

"You’re...so sweet," Alex said, pecking him on the cheek again just to watch him change colors. "Maria warned me about this. That you're 110%.” Alex stretched an arm around Michael’s shoulders. “Like maybe you need a Real Man to handle you."

Alex was giggling, of course, not sounding like a Real Man at all. "But okay. Now. Fishing lessons."

“C’mon, Manes, show me how you handle your rod.”

“Oh my God,” Alex snorted. “Anyway, you didn’t seem to have all that much trouble last night.” 

Michael purred with satisfaction, leaning in to nuzzle at the side of Alex’s head, lips brushing the shell of his ear, until he was shoved away playfully.

“Okay, okay show me how it’s done.”

A few hours later, they had a couple fish bagged and the sun was rising in the sky, making steam rise faintly from the water. A fish slipped off Michael’s hook, he was so distracted watching the way the morning light outlined Alex in gold.

“Oh! Grab him!” Alex laughed. “Come on, we can store them in our bucket and take a walk. I won’t make you clean them until later. Keep ‘em as fresh as possible.” Alex considered him. “Well, you probably deal with way grosser stuff at the Crashdown. You could probably teach  _ me  _ how to clean a fish.” 

“We do our best, but I dunno if I’ve ever dealt with anything quite  _ this  _ fresh,” Michael said. “Nah, you’re gonna have to hold my hand.”

For emphasis, he reached out and squeezed Alex’s hand, pulling him along as they started to walk.

Alex rolled his eyes, charmed by Michael’s sappiness. It felt like no one but him mattered to Michael right now, and Alex (and his ego, unfortunately) was obsessed with it. After they put the fish in the shade under Michael’s truck, they put the poles up and took a walk around the lake. 

“It’s not like it’s a big lake,” Alex chuckled, offering Michael his hand this time. “But there’s a shady spot I think I remember, where we can stop and eat our sandwiches, if you like.” 

“Whatever you want,” Michael said, grinning soppily first at Alex and then out across the lake. “It’s gorgeous here. You should bring your guitar next time. I could spend hours, just watching the sky and listening to you play...um, I mean, if you want to invite me again, I mean—”

“Michael,” Alex said, at first rolling his eyes and then taking both his hands and growing almost stern, though he still smiled vaguely. “What do I have to do to make you understand that  _ I want you _ ? In like, a cosmic forever kind of way? You’re insulting me here, man, ‘if I want to invite you again.’ Please. I thought you were smart.” 

“Cosmic,” Michael breathed. Then he said, “Of course I trust you. I just didn’t want to invite myself or whatever. I might be smart, but I’m pretty stupid for you.”

That line was too much even for Michael, who had to look away and put a hand over his face to hide his blush even as he laughed along.

"Don't be a clown, I'm being serious!" Alex scolded, but he was laughing, too. He jerked on Michael's arm as he pulled away and this time tugged him into a kiss that was a little fierce, a little biting, and maybe a lot possessive. He kissed with Authority, all of a sudden, and that gave him the focus to be utterly serious: "You're  _ invited _ . And you're  _ wanted _ . You don't have to play coy or shy with me. Be polite with my family, whatever, but I need you to be confident in me. What do I need to do to make you feel safe?"

_ “Alex, _ ” Michael said, pressing their foreheads together, putting his arms around him. “I  _ do  _ feel safe. You don’t need to do anything. Just be yourself, okay?”

Alex kissed him again, shaking his head. “Obviously I  _ do _ . I’ll figure it out.” 

He took Michael’s hand then and dragged him off down the walking trail. 

…

They didn’t go far. The lake was small, and the little wooded patch with a spot in the shade, next to a babbling brook, was the perfect place for Alex to lay out a blanket and invite Michael to sit next to him. 

“Or you can sit on me. Anywhere you like,” Alex grinned, wagging his eyebrows. 

“Don’t tempt me,” Michael said, sitting down beside him but within kissing distance, just in case. In fact, unable to keep his hands to himself, he immediately reached out and stroked Alex’s slightly long hair behind his ear, giving his earring a playful tug as his fingers fell away.

Alex leaned into the touch, taking Michael’s hand and pressing it against the side of his neck, then turning his head to kiss Michael’s wrist, his pulsepoint. “Wouldn’t it be crazy if you had green blood?” 

“Are you disappointed I’m not Vulcan, still?”

On purpose, Michael dragged the flat of his wrist against Alex’s cheek, feeling the barest scrape of stubble on that thin, sensitive skin.

“No. No! Maybe.” Alex said, and giggled, and kissed Michael’s wrist again, bit into it with the edge of his teeth, just gently mouthing. His eyes lit up, and he kissed up the inside of Michael’s arm like this, like Gomez Addams to Morticia, until he was leaning over Michael, arching him back, and kissing him on the lips. “ _ I’m _ obviously the Vulcan.” He drew back suddenly. “Next year’s Halloween costume!”

(It was too late for this year, as he, Maria, and Michael were already doing Luke, Leia, and Han.)

“Me as Kirk, though? I think we both know I’m not exactly Captain material,” Michael said, running his hands up Alex’s sides. 

“Hmm, no, I guess not,” Alex said, pushing him all the way over onto his back, just because he knew he’d go, knew he’d flop onto his back. Alex smiled down at Michael and kissed him right between his eyes. “You could be Bones. The doctor. I mean we could just wear  _ Star Trek _ uniforms, no one would really know. I don’t think we’ll convince Maria to be Kirk when Uhura’s got the miniskirt, though.” 

Alex’s face darkened, suddenly, as he talked, and he sat back, chewing on his lip deep in thought. “I mean, I guess, who knows if we’ll all be together next Halloween.” 

Michael locked his arms around Alex’s waist in a loose hug. “It’ll be okay, though. I mean, if it’s on a weekday we might have to wait for a weekend party or something, but we’ll find a way, right? Um…” He chewed on his lip. “I dunno if you’ve told me what your plans are. For next year?”

"They're changing even as we speak," Alex said. "Because you're going to UNM. I was thinking I should, um, apply for more scholarships." He swallowed. "So that I can come with you." 

Michael surged upward to kiss him, twisting them both until Michael was laying on top of him, feeling his body all against his own, until they were both breathless.

“Really? It’s not too late to apply? Because it’ll be okay if you have to wait a year, it’s okay, I’d wait for you, we’d make it work—” Michael babbled.

"You are  _ not _ ," Alex said firmly, grabbing Michael by the hair, "waiting for me. Got that?" 

Alex sat up, grabbing Michael by the shoulders. "You're not going to waste your life on account of me. I will not let you. You're going to reach for the stars and it's on me to keep up. Even if I have to enlist, after all…"

“No!” Michael shouted. Then, quieter but no less serious, he said, “I  _ get  _ to wait for you if I want to. I get to make that decision for myself. You’re worth waiting for; you’re worth  _ everything,  _ Alex. What, do you think I’m going to go off to Albuquerque and forget all about you because I’m three hours away? No.”

Alex laughed. "Oh! Okay, okay.  _ That _ kind of waiting is fine. I just mean don't put your plans on hold for me. You  _ better _ wait for me in Albuquerque, I'll be a stalker boyfriend if I gotta be. And I won't enlist, that's, like, the nuclear option. I don't think they'd even take me with my trick leg, honestly."

Michael flashed his dimples at him and laid him back down, sliding down to press a kiss to the outside of his knee, then back up to kiss his lips again.

Alex relaxed, pulling Michael close. "So we'll see about UNM. Maybe for Maria and Rosa, too. I'm always thinking about the band, too, you know."

“Yeah! Is that what you want to study? Music?”

"Well what I want to study and what I'm going to study are two different things," Alex said wryly. "No one's going to give me a scholarship for music, even if I am Native. I'm good at computers, like my mom. Following in her footsteps would be nice. Give us something to talk about at least."

“Oh yeah? That sounds good. We can keep up with the band anyway,” Michael said. “As long as you don’t kick me out for a better bassist.”

"You're sleeping with the band leader. You're safe," Alex giggled, then sat up on one elbow. Still barely able to speak past the giggling, he said, "You know you look hot. Maybe you should take your shirt off."

“Oh yeah? You gonna rub aloe all over me when I get sunburned?” Michael said, but he stripped off anyway, curls sticking up in a halo all around his head. “Is the lake super sketchy? We could go swimming.”

Alex just gave him a considering look, smiling like he was far away. “I just want to check you out, is all. And no, we don’t want to swim in there. I don’t trust lake water. Can you even swim?” 

“Nope. You should teach me sometime.”

Michael laid back down, shifting to get comfortable, then patted the blanket beside him.

Alex slid down, but on his side, drinking in all that golden skin, the lanky arms and narrow torso, defined arms and shoulders but the belly of someone who ate well every day. His eyes traced the happy trail of hair that crawled down under the waistband of his boxers, though he didn't have that much chest hair yet. Alex could look at Michael all day, and he must have looked pretty dopey, as Michael grinned and raised an eyebrow at him. 

"Still hot," he said, and leaned in for a kiss. 

They kissed lazily under the midday sun, Alex’s hand slowly stroking his curls, Michael’s hands flirting with the hem of Alex’s shirt. Eventually, Michael opened his eyes just a sliver and said:

“I love you.”

"I love you, too," Alex grinned, his face hurting from all the smiling. He nudged a curl out of Michael's face and kissed his cheek, and dared to nibble on his ear. His hand curled around Michael's ribs, teasing and scratching gently along his sides. 

Michael let out a soft, contented noise and shifted closer, so he could kiss and suck at Alex’s neck and even higher, to whisper in his ear: “I want to stay here with you forever.”

“Doesn’t have to be  _ here _ . But forever. Yeah.” 

…

Making their way back, Alex took him by the graveyard. 

“Maybe it was my goth phase in sophomore year, but I always thought this place was cool. The traditional burial ground is somewhere else, this is the “Christian” one I guess. Or just modern.” Alex poked around, looking at the old gravestones and crosses, pointing at a few. “It was good for me to see how many Benallys there are. I forgot I have a background that has nothing to do with the military and alien hunting. It was nice to remember that.”

“Have you considered changing your name to your mom’s?” Michael asked, following Alex closely, half to make sure he was being respectful, half just because he wanted to, twining their fingers together.

Alex shrugged, and then turned to grin at Michael. “I’ve thought about changing my last name to  _ yours _ .” 

Michael managed to stay stoic for a few seconds before dissolving into helpless giggles. “You can’t just  _ say  _ stuff like that,” he said, leaning over and gently headbutting Alex’s shoulder.

"Can't I?" Alex wondered innocently, tugging Michael into his arms. Michael moved like a rag doll, happy to be pushed or pulled as long as Alex was touching him, and Alex vowed never to betray that trust. He teased, "Just because I obviously wear the pants in this relationship, doesn't mean I can't take your name."

“I…” Michael’s smile flickered a little, and his voice was wistful when he said, “I’d like that.”

“Something wrong?”

“Nah, it’s stupid. Or, not stupid, but...I dunno. It feels like I’m throwing everything my dad and Liz and Rosa have done for me back in their faces, but sometimes I feel like, you know, it’s not my name to share or give away. Jim just fudged the paperwork for my name change to help cover my tracks.”

Alex took Michael's hands. "Well maybe that's a good time to make it official. A legal name change. Since we can't get married, that might be a nice step. I have no loyalty to my dad's name...or my mom's, really."

That wasn't entirely true, but Alex hated talking about feelings he didn't understand, so he stopped at that. 

"Someday, I mean. I don't want to rush you," Alex said, squeezing Michael's hands, and then cupping his chin and kissing him on the lips again. "Maybe gay marriage is legal on your planet, and we can just wait until we go there."

“We can ask my mom someday,” Michael said. 

They made it to the last row, where a few older graves straggled together. Fall was in full swing, but here there were still wildflowers growing as strong and vivid as ever. Michael stopped short in front of one grave covered in small purple blossoms that looked worryingly familiar.

“Alex?” He said, crouching. “Um, I’ve seen these before. In Maria’s necklace and, uh, at...at Caulfield.”

"Uh,  _ what _ ?" Alex demanded. He dropped to a crouch to get a closer look, though it made him wince at the strain on his shin, and he took a knee instead. The flower was tiny, but absolutely recognizable. "Hey, yeah, that totally is! That's Mimi’s flower necklace. …You said you found one at  _ Caulfield _ ?" 

Alex looked around them, and up at the gravestone. His heart skipped a beat as he read the inscription. 

_ Louise Truman. June 14, 1997 _ . 

No birth date, just death. And what was more… "Uh, isn't that your  _ birthday _ ?"

Michael rocked back on his heels. “What—what does this mean? I mean, we were in the pods for fifty years, but is it plausible that someone else from the crash could have—escaped? Survived? Here?”

Alex’s jaw actually dropped as he remembered what little of the Caulfield papers Jim had let him see. The “subject” name “Nora Truman” was seared into Alex’s brain, but he phrased it like a question for Michael. “Wasn’t...uh, wasn’t your mom’s name...Truman? Was this—someone who knew your mom? Someone related to you?” 

1997… 

“She died the  _ day _ you came out of the pods?” 

“Looks like it.” He blinked away tears suddenly blocking his vision. “Whoever she was, we just missed her. Fuck the universe.” Swiping at his eyes, he continued, “I don’t remember a lot about that day, honestly. You were the one who saw the papers.”

“Your mom was definitely Truman,” Alex said, giving up the pretense of not being someone who obsessively catalogued every known fact about his boyfriend. He swung his arms around Michael, holding him. “We can ask around. See if anyone knew her. Does...do you think the flowers mean she was an alien? I’ve been by Caulfield, too, and I didn’t see any flowers.” 

“They were growing in the cracks. All over the place. I wouldn’t have noticed them either unless I’d seen Mimi’s necklace, they’re so small. Growing there, suppressing Mimi and Maria’s psychic abilities...I think aliens must be involved somehow.”

Michael felt suddenly like apologizing, that he was bringing more alien stuff into Alex’s life, affecting his family.

“Yeah, it’s weird,” Alex admitted, keeping his arms around Michael. There were several flowers here. “Normally I’d say we should check with the Elders, but…” he sighed. “Do you think we should harvest them for Maria and Mimi? I bet you could keep them alive, until we figure out what to do with them. Make more necklaces or something.”

“That’s a great idea! Maybe Sanders will know how to make jewelry. Or I’ll figure out how to somehow.”

They gathered up as many of the flowers as they could, and then, when they were getting ready to head back, Michael reached out and put one behind Alex’s ear.

“There, now you’re protected,” he said, softly.

“Michael Ortecho,” Alex said, stopping the hand against his neck and squeezing it. “I love you, and I love what a complete sap you are. But I want to keep these for Maria and Mimi. I don’t need one. And look, now you’ve got the pollen all over you. What if it makes you sick? Here…” 

Alex dug in his backpack for one of the empty sandwich ziplocs, dumping out all the crumbs so they could keep the flowers in there. He kissed Michael’s cheek. “Pick me some less lifesaving wildflowers sometime. I’m a practical guy, but not so practical I don’t want flowers sometimes.” 

“Okay, I’ll get you some,” Michael promised. Looking down at the baggie, he said, “I feel kind of bad. Maria seems like she really doesn’t want to wear it, but...what’s happening to Mimi is so scary. But in Maria’s situation, I don’t know if I’d be able to give up my powers either. They’re a part of me.”

“Yeah, but  _ your _ powers don’t rot your brain or whatever,” Alex said in a way that left no room for discussion. “And if they did, you and I would have a serious conversation about you using them. Until we find out whether Max can heal psychic brain drain—which, we should ask him to try, actually—we use preventative medicine.” 

“I know. I want to protect her, too. But it is hard.”

Michael dusted dirt off his knees and stood up, taking Alex’s hand again.

“We should probably get back to the lake and make sure nothing’s wandered off with our fish,” he said, giving his hand a squeeze.

“Or no one,” Alex laughed, kissing Michael again. “Also we need to get these in water for you to work your magic. I’ll ask grandma if she knew a Louise Truman. And I just want to say that aliens crash landing here and calling themselves ‘true men’ is hilarious to me. ‘Truwoman’ must not have flowed or something.”

… 

Fresh-caught fish for dinner with rice and beans and corn was amazing, and not just because Michael got to learn Grandma’s recipes and Alex got to watch them working magic together in the kitchen. 

No one said they had heard of a Louise Truman, except that Alex’s grandfather went a little quieter than usual (a subtle difference, hard to tell), and after dinner he beckoned Alex and Michael into a back room. Flint, uninvited, gave him a vaguely dirty look, so this was sure to be good. 

His loom was there, with a half-finished work on it: something with mountains and a neon sky. He didn’t say anything even as he went to a large chest and began pulling out woven blankets. 

“Sit,” he eventually said, and Alex dropped to a cross-legged seat on the floor, pulling Michael with him. He remembered, faintly, sitting here with his brothers watching grandfather weave and tell stories. Before his mom left and he didn’t see that side of his family until his dad died. 

Grandpa Benally sat on the seat of the loom and laid a blanket across his knees. “Louise mostly kept to herself. Alex, neither you nor your brothers ever met her, even when you visited when you were very young. But when I was only a little older than you are now, soon after she came to the reservation, my father began weaving this blanket. I didn’t understand until much later why he would do so for an outsider. She was a gifted healer. We all could have benefitted if there was a way for her to pass down her gifts...but she was different from you or I. But not, I suspect,” he turned his eyes on Michael, “different from you.”

Michael shrank back a little bit at first, a lie on the tip of his tongue, but he couldn’t bring himself to voice it. Not to someone who might have answers for him.

Straightening his shoulders, he said, “No, sir.”

Grandpa nodded, slowly. Alex knew not to interrupt, and Michael followed his lead. 

"She was a healer," he finally continued. "She didn't speak. Lost a child when she came to us. Couldn't heal herself, but healed others. That's all I know. That, and this."

Grandpa Benally unfurled a woven blanket over his knees so that Michael and Alex could get a look at it. It pictured a woman with long, yellow hair and wide blue eyes, and she touched two other figures. She was sitting, the other figures towering above her. One figure was bleeding, the other not, clearly intended to show some transition of injury to none. She had no mouth. Her hands were white. From her flowed a river woven in the color of her eyes, and at the end of it the blue trailed off into a mysterious three-ringed symbol. 

"Grandpa, what does this symbol mean?" Alex asked, pointing, assuming it was just one of the many things he didn’t understand about Diné culture. 

“I, I know it. I mean, I don’t know what it means,” Michael offered. “Just, I used to draw it all the time when I was a kid. I…”

Alex blinked at him in surprise, but Grandpa just waited patiently. Alex’s grandfather was trustworthy, but a lifetime’s instinct kicked in to protect Max and Isobel anyway.

“...I was drawing it all over the walls of the group home when they found me. Scaring the other kids.”

Alex took Michael’s hand and squeezed it. He sensed that this wasn’t quite right, because Michael was a miserable liar, but didn’t want to call him out in front of Grandpa (who hated liars—he had, of course, never liked Jesse). “You don’t know what it means?” 

“No. No idea at all,” Michael said sadly. He wished he did—he wished he knew anything at all about their language, their symbology. But he had nothing.

Grandpa thought for a moment, then said, “There are those who said the symbol just appeared around her. Water droplets ran to form it; it appeared in the ashes when she had laid the fire. I believe my father wove this on purpose, but…” He folded the blanket over, covering the design. “Tomorrow, if he’s willing, I’ll introduce you to Harrison, Louise’s closest living friend. And an old friend of the Manes family.”

“Manes?” Michael asked warily. Alex frowned.

“Try not to hold it against him.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We continue to disclaim any personal understanding of the Native American experience, as all our information comes from research, speculation, and RNM canon. We hope our readers will take the opportunity to educate themselves on issues the Navajo and other Native Americans face. Here are some links for further reading that we want to spotlight from the RNM fandom in this discussion:
> 
> https://soberqueerinthewild.tumblr.com/post/632079507951599616/over-the-last-few-days-there-has-been-a-lot-of
> 
> https://jocarthage.tumblr.com/post/632062047615664128/my-5-personal-goal-posts
> 
> https://ladiesofrnm.tumblr.com/post/632053325737672704/rep-joaquin-castro-well-and-i-wanted-to-ask
> 
> https://pocfansmatter.tumblr.com/post/632168807033618432
> 
> https://michaels-blackhat.tumblr.com/post/632452670995808256/so-youre-feeling-white-guilt-and-you-dont-know


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning for discussions of past abuse and associate revenge fantasies

The next day, Harrison told them about Louise, and how a Manes named Tripp that Alex vaguely remembered mention of (his father’s uncle? First name Eugene) brought her, wounded and pregnant, to the Reservation. They took a great risk hiding her there, but were rewarded with all the help she gave their people. Tripp made sure her daughter was adopted—a half-human girl named Patricia, who married a Victor DeLuca—

“Maria’s grandma?” Alex had gasped, but Harrison kept talking, not quite hearing them. He was quite old, and seemed like he didn’t hear or see very well. 

“I was with her at the end. She said, ‘The child has arrived, so I may leave.’”

Alex looked at Michael again. On their birth-from-the-pods-day. Alex desperately wished he had met this Louise person, though maybe it was good that she stayed clear of Maneses. He checked in with Michael, rubbing his back and squeezing the back of his neck to see how he was doing. 

“‘The child’…” Michael repeated, fingers fidgeting in his lap. “...Just one? Um, nevermind. Thank you for talking to us, Mr. Harrison. I wish I could have met her.”

Harrison smiled and lifted a wrinkled hand to pat Michael on the head. “And I knew several people who would have loved to meet you, young man. I’m happy you’re here now.”

“W-what?”

"You kids have fun today," Harrison finally wheezed, by way of dismissal. "You see Window Rock yet? You can find my name on the memorial, next to Tripp's. We saw a lot together in the war. But nothing like that night."

He sighed and closed his eyes. "Louise lived a good life here. And she did so much for us. The way she could make plants grow. Heal injuries of the body and spirit. Move things with her mind. She could spiritwalk like our Elders. She had a daughter, I think…"

"That’s Patricia, right? Or you mean another?" Alex asked, but Harrison had already fallen asleep. 

“I guess we should go,” Michael whispered, but he didn’t move an inch until Alex stood and squeezed his shoulder. His mind spun with information, and more questions than they’d gotten answers.

They passed Harrison’s daughter as they left, and she smiled at Alex. “It’s good to see you visit, Alex. Manes boys are always welcome here, especially now.”

Alex smiled and thanked her, and led Michael out. They were quiet until they got to Michael’s truck. 

“You okay?” Alex finally asked, sliding across the bench seat to get both hands on Michael. It wasn’t as private a space as he would have liked, but he didn’t shy away from comforting Michael with touch here. “What are you thinking?” 

“I...I don’t know. I didn’t come here expecting…” Michael raked his fingers through his hair and sighed. “It’s a lot. I think I’d like to just enjoy our last day of break and think about it when we’re back in Roswell, if that’s okay?”

“Sure,” Alex said, arm going around Michael as a sudden and intense desire to protect him from everything kicked in, one he hadn’t felt this strongly since his father was alive. “Do you want to just go back to my mom’s and play video games? We don’t even have to go to Window Rock if you don’t wanna.” 

“Nah, I want to go. If you want to. I’m okay, Alex,” he said, sensing he might need a bit of reassurance. They were too out in the open for him to lean over and give Alex a kiss, but he turned his head so he could surreptitiously kiss the hand that rested on his shoulder.

Aex leaned in and kissed Michael quickly on the temple. "Okay. I'm here."

Locking their eyes together, Alex checked Michael was okay, then leaned back and patted his thigh. "Let's go. You want me to drive?"

“Yeah, if you don’t mind.”

He slid over and they switched spots. Michael didn’t get much opportunity to just sit back and watch Alex like this, so he took advantage now, leaning against the window to watch him in profile, the way he flushed under Michael’s scrutiny. 

“I’ve had a really great time,” he said, once they’d been in silence for a while. “Um, should we talk about what’s gonna change when we get back to Roswell? I’m...I’m not out to my dad. When Rosa came out it went well, but I don’t know if I’m...ready for that. Is that okay? I can, I can try.”

"O-oh," Alex said, trying very hard to sound mild about it, though he was sure his surprise was audible. He couldn't help the sinking feeling that went with this revelation, but he rallied almost immediately. "Sure. Obviously, whatever you need. Beating up one pack of homophobic dicks doesn’t cure homophobia, so, uh, yeah. Whatever you need.” He laughed probably a little too loudly. “I’m sure Maria would be our beard if we asked.” 

“No! I wouldn’t do that to you  _ or  _ her,” Michael said, reaching out as if to take Alex’s hand but pulling away as soon as his fingers grazed his knuckles, like he was scared he wouldn’t be welcome. “I don’t want to hide. I want to be with  _ you.  _ It’s just...I just…”

Alex tried to snatch Michael’s hand out of the air, but he wasn’t great at driving stickshift and had to lunge for the gearshift. 

“Michael, I get it.” Alex tried for gentle but firm, which was one of his most practiced tones. “I’m not offended, and my love isn’t fragile. I’m not expecting us to make out in the eraser room at school or anything. And I understand wanting to wait to tell your dad until you’re ready. I’m glad you brought all this up, and I’m sorry for forgetting to check. Who are you okay with knowing...about us? I haven’t even said anything to Greg or Mom yet, so we can keep it on the extreme DL.”

“I know your love isn’t fragile. You’re the strongest person I know,” Michael said, braving it to hold his hand for real this time. “All our friends know about me. I have no idea how they’ve put up with me pining over you all this time. So I guess...not at school, or at the Crashdown, and maybe not at my place, until I come out to my dad. Is that okay?”

They drove up to the foothills, where bright red-orange rock met endless blue sky. Window Rock itself was visible from quite a way out, as Alex hunted for a parking spot in the shade. 

Alex finally found the perfect spot, and put the truck into park before turning to fix Michael with a brilliant, and hopefully reassuring, smile. “That’s fine by me. I mean, the longer your dad doesn’t know about us the more you can stay the night at my house. No complaints here.” 

“I wish I could kiss you right now,” Michael said, even as the noise of other sightseers penetrated the little bubble within the truck.

“Absence makes the heart grow fonder,” Alex promised. “And we know all about that.” 

He patted Michael’s leg and got out of the car, remembering to put the parking brake on when it lurched and Michael laughed. 

Window Rock was impressive, though Alex had seen it before. He let Michael read all the plaques about how the rock was formed, about the wildlife and Indigenous history, while he wandered over to the Memorial wall, looking for Harrison’s name, as well as this half-forgotten family member, Eugene “Tripp” Manes III. 

Michael was the perfect companion at any museum or monument, all wide-eyed eagerness to take everything in, that big brain of his soaking up knowledge like a sponge. Alex thought it was adorable, and wondered if they could hit some museums in Albuquerque on their way home tomorrow. Michael took his time, so when he rejoined Alex he’d already been puzzling over the names for a good while.

“Tripp,” Michael said out loud. “Your...your dad never mentioned him?”

“Maybe…?” Alex said, wracking his brain. “I think he died when my dad was young, and Grandpa didn’t talk about him much. Tripp was a nickname, what kind of family names their kid ‘Eugene’? Three times?!” 

“...The kind of family who names their kids Flint and Clay?” Michael suggested.

Alex glared at him, but not for being wrong, and then giggled. “Point taken.” He stopped, turned to face Michael, and nudged him playfully. “Do you think you could love me still if my name was Clayton Manes?” 

“Love finds a way,” Michael sighed dramatically, then paused. “...Does Clay have a middle name?”

He broke out into giggles as Alex shoved him.

" _ My _ name isn't even Alexander. It's terrible," Alex said, then pointed to a few bricks near the floor. "Hey, look, here's Eugene III. And Harrison’s next to him, that's sweet. Hang on, did someone  _ draw _ on here?" Alex said, crouching down. 

“It’s the symbol! It’s the same symbol from the blanket, and the one I used to draw,” Michael said, then added hastily, “I didn’t do this. I mean, of course I didn’t, I’ve never been here before. It must have been Louise. Your uncle must have known her, or she knew him, I mean!”

Alex frowned deeply, distrust in his eyebrows. “Maybe  _ he’s  _ the whole reason all the aliens were captured…” 

He stopped that train of thought, shrugging with extreme nonchalance. “Even if he meant well, whoever he was, he didn’t do  _ enough _ . One out of, like, seventy is a pretty shitty track record for saving refugee aliens. Far as I’m concerned he’s as bad as the rest of them, and he definitely doesn’t deserve to be on a plaque for heroes. None of the Manes men do.” 

He continued to stare at the name like he was numbing himself to it. 

Michael swallowed. 

“Whatever your uncle did or didn’t do... _ you  _ deserve to be on a plaque for heroes.” He squeezed Alex’s shoulder, letting his thumb rest on bare skin above his collar. “We can hate him later, when we know more about him, okay?”

Alex huffed, and then glanced sidelong at Michael and snorted. “Don’t make fun of me when I’m being intense.” 

But he rolled his eyes as much at himself as anything, and slung an arm around Michael’s shoulders manfully. “Let’s go get some tacos and head back to my mom’s place, huh? It’s getting hot.” 

… 

Michael lounged on the couch, his feet behind Alex’s back, watching Greg get his ass kicked at Street Fighter by his mom. He had a hard time focusing on anything but the warmth of Alex’s body and how much he wanted to be closer to him, even though his family was right there. Warmth radiated up his leg from where Alex rested a hand on his ankle; it felt like he had bees under his skin buzzing desperate to touch him.

“Mom!” Greg bemoaned after his fifth loss in a row, while Mindy laughed.

“Two on one, Mom, no way you can take both of us,” Alex said, hooking up a third controller. 

“Oh, no, I wouldn’t want to embarrass you further. Why don’t you rotate Michael in?” Mindy said, getting up and wandering into the kitchen to poke around in her freezer for something to cook. 

“Alex beats me most of the time,” Michael said, “I don’t know if I’d be worth your time, frankly. But I’ll give it a go.”

“He’s being humble,” Alex warned his brother, handing Michael his controller and getting up to follow his mom. “Kick his ass for me, I wanna talk to mom.”

Greg gave a mock salute and turned back to the game as Michael slid onto the floor to join him.

Mindy glanced over her shoulder when Alex walked into the kitchen and smiled. “Hey kiddo, what’s up?”

"Do you need help with dinner?" Alex hedged. They both had similar approaches to cooking, honestly, which was balancing sufficient nutrition with maximum ease, with taste being secondary. "We’ll be happy with some nuggets and some carrot sticks. We had a huge lunch."

“Sure thing. I’ll cut the sticks if you put the nuggets in the oven, k?” 

She began slicing the carrots, letting the sound of the knife on the cutting board serve as background noise, easing their words.

“You know, it’s a good thing your aunt likes to cook. Sometimes I wish I was better at keeping Mom’s recipes alive, but it’s just not me. You know what that’s like?”

"Yeah, uh," Alex said, managing to avoid saying  _ obviously _ . "I'm glad Flint’s hanging out with Grandpa and Grandma more. He can be the cook of our generation. But my people are in Roswell."

He was firm on that—as firm as he had been three years ago. 

"But I, ah,” Alex continued, “I'm thinking about moving to Albuquerque. So, a lot closer."

“Oh yeah?” Her voice picked up in excitement. “That’s great! So you’re sure about UNM? I know we talked about it a little, but you didn’t seem confident before. What do you think you’ll study?”

"Uhh," Alex laughed a little awkwardly. "Yeah, you know, I  _ don't _ really know. I mean I want to study music but I also want, like, to support a family. I was thinking about doing, uh, computer science?"

“Well, I’m biased, but it sounds like a good choice to me.” She winked and slid all the carrot sticks into a bowl. “But if you did want to pursue music, we’d support you. Feeding the soul is important, too.”

"Yeah, I know," Alex said, relaxing, like he had expected a worse reaction. Maybe his mom was going to convince him to study music, after all. He put the chicken nuggets into the oven and turned around. "I couldn't ever stop making music. I just want to be sort of practical, I guess. And it's something I'm good at, I think. Like, I  _ like  _ computers. Anyway, it's not like I have to declare a major right away. But...would you help me with applications?"

“Of course! Any time. Just let me know when, okay?” She hugged her son, then held him at arms length. “Is that all you wanted to say?”

"Yeah, I mean—" Alex said, shrugging bashfully. He wasn't good at accepting parental affection still, not really from anyone but Mimi, and that made him sad. He and Mindy were both trying to be better. He might have been about to say something about Michael, and then he narrowed his eyes. "I suppose you don't know anything about my dad's uncle Tripp Manes? He was apparently friends with Glenn Harrison?" 

Mindy leaned back against the counter, a frown on her face. “I don’t remember much. He was nicer than your great-grandfather or your grandfather.” 

Alex nodded, getting the subtext: that wasn’t saying much. 

“Jesse idolized him, until after his death. I never knew why his opinion changed so much so fast.”

"Oh?" That was interesting, as Alex's brain built several new possible scenarios with this information. Any enemy of his dad and grandpa had to have something right. "He was a military man...was he part of, ah, 'the family business'?"

His eyes strayed to Michael, where he was holding out against Greg and probably only losing to be nice. It didn't take a lot to imagine his father doing what he did to Michael's mother to Michael himself, and it was enough for the hate to flare up again, to be jealous of Michelle Valenti and imagine a world where he had shot Jesse himself. 

When Mindy put a hand on his arm, Alex flinched in surprise, so deep in his thoughts. 

“Alex?” she asked. She looked...old, for the first time Alex had ever seen. “I don’t know about Tripp. I mean, I think he must have been, or else he would have been cut off. But do we need to talk? About the ‘family business’? I know you were...there, when Jesse died. I can’t promise you I have any answers, but…”

Alex swallowed. He knew she knew something, and both Grandma and Grandpa Benally had picked Michael out as otherworldly, but they had known about Louise. Heck, maybe his mom knew her, too. He wasn't sure what all his mom knew about aliens, either before or after she married his dad. 

"Part of it is, it's not my story to tell," he said finally. "I guess anything you'd like to tell me I want to know. Every time I learn something new about dad I have revenge fantasies of killing him. Is that normal?" 

“Anger can be healthy. Your father can’t hurt you anymore, and he also can’t  _ be  _ hurt, so I don’t think thinking about it can do any harm. I know you can be trusted to recognize if that kind of thinking goes too far.”

Alex nodded. He could be frank with his mother. They were good at frank, rational conversations where emotion didn’t get in the way.

"Did  _ you _ know a Louise Truman? She died in '97."

“Not well, not personally. But then again, no one really did except for Harry. She...healed me once. After Jesse."

Alex looked at her sharply at this, but didn't interrupt.

"And I think she knew who he was and what his family did, but she didn’t hold it against me. In fact, I think it only made her kinder toward me. It took a while—and therapy—for me to understand how that could be.” Mindy hugged herself and looked to the side. “She’d also lost two children, or that’s what Harrison said. Again, I don’t know how she didn’t hate me.” Her jaw ticked, but then she turned to meet Alex’s eyes again and gave a wan smile. “But that’s not anything you need to comfort me over, understand? Why do you ask about her?”

Alex moved to hug her, anyway. "I think she might be related to...someone I know."

He left it at that. 

"I know I said this before, Mom, but I'm glad you got out." His throat was tight, but Alex was not going to cry. "I was mad at you for a long time, but now I know, uh, that being in Roswell was more important, for me, even then. It still is. I'm sorry you had to...make that choice. But with the way it worked out, I'm grateful you did. Really."

His mother was still taller than him, and probably always would be. Alex gazed up at her and smiled, her little boy again. 

“Oh, sweetheart,” Mindy sighed, hugging him tightly and rubbing his back. “I’m glad you’re happy now. But you never should have been put in that situation in the first place, and I can’t help feeling responsible. You aren’t in trouble right now, are you? With ‘someone you know’ who’s giving you cause to look in your father’s past? You can tell me, okay?”

“Oh, Mom, no. No trouble. Just—just looking into some things. Solving some old mysteries.” Alex squeezed her back. “Well, I mean, Mimi and Maria are kind of in trouble. We found some flowers that may help. Do you know what  _ Tsela _ means? It’s on Mimi’s old necklace, the one with the flowers.” 

“Oh, that...it means  _ star on the ground.  _ I don’t know why it would be on a necklace, but then, I’m no craftsman. Everyone wants to sign their work.”

She let him out of the hug and leaned back against the counter again. There were only a couple minutes left on the timer. Out in the den, Michael was winning his and Greg’s third game. 

Alex nodded, committing this to memory. So far they had a lot of puzzle pieces and none of them really fit together. Well, that wasn’t true. They had flowers, and that solved an immediate problem. The rest was just curiosity, he supposed. “Okay. Thanks. Uh, I guess we want to hit some museums in Albuquerque tomorrow, so we’ll try to leave early.” 

“Okay. Sounds good. I’m really happy you came, Alex. And it was wonderful to meet Michael. He seems like a special boy, who cares for you very much.”

(It didn’t take a genius to recognize that Flint’s bed hadn’t been slept in last night, even if Mindy hadn’t been interested in actually looking for Michael. But Alex could tell her about them in his own time. She could wait.)

"Yeah, he…" Alex hesitated, mostly shy rather than remembering Michael's hesitancy to spread this too widely, and then gave her a rare smile. "He's very special. To me. He's the reason for choosing UNM, anyway."

His mom patted his cheek. “I’m glad you two will have each other.”

The timer went off, making both of them jump and laugh at themselves for how deep in conversation they’d gotten.

"Alex," Greg said, coming into the kitchen and thumping Michael hard in the chest. "This jerk just murdered your favorite brother with extreme prejudice six times. I want you to dump him."

There was a brief, pregnant pause. Alex checked in with Michael, eyes wide. 

Michael chewed his lip for a second, but then he half-smiled and gave Alex a tiny nod. This little piece of Alex’s family felt so safe and welcoming, he couldn’t pass up the opportunity to be accepted, to be seen as the person he was to Alex out in the light.

"That's hardly fair. You get your ass kicked by your Momma on the regular," Mindy said, breaking the tension. 

Alex laughed, taking Michael’s hand.

“Maybe Alex can teach you a thing or two and you won’t lose so often,” he said brashly.

"Maybe we should eat dinner," Alex suggested, turning red and trying to change the subject. 

“Sorry this isn’t what you’re used to, Michael,” Mindy said as they loaded up their plates with nuggets and carrot sticks.

“Oh, it’s fine, ma’am…”

“Alex inherited our mom’s lack of cooking skills, so it’s a good thing you know your way around a kitchen if you’re going to be dating—” 

“ _ Greg _ !” Alex complained. 

“Maybe if I visit again someday I can cook for you guys,” Michael blurted, immediately embarrassed by it.

“My mom is already impressed,” Mindy said. “You’re welcome back any time, Michael. Even if my son breaks up with you, I hope  _ you’ll  _ keep in touch.” 

“MOTHER.” 

…

That night, after Greg left and Mindy moved upstairs to get ready for bed, Alex didn’t exactly announce that Michael was staying in his room, but they didn’t exactly hide it this time, either, leaving his door wide open in invitation. Alex took the bathroom first, brushing his teeth extra-carefully and taking a thirty-second shower before hopping into his pajamas and into bed. 

His heart was hammering out of his chest when the water stopped, the light went out, and Michael slipped into his room. 

“Lock it behind you,” Alex giggled. He didn’t think his mom was the kind of parent to check on him like that, but it didn’t hurt to plan for the worst in his experience. 

Michael was carrying his bag, dropping all pretense that he was staying in Flint’s room. “So I can get dressed in the morning without the walk of shame,” he said, but both of them thrilled when he dropped it on Alex’s floor.

Alex giggled a little helplessly. "Great."

Michael locked the door as requested, and when he walked over to the bed he hesitated at the side of it, until Alex ran his hand down the covers in invitation, at which point Michael slid right in and snuggled up to Alex’s side, kissing his arm and his shoulder and everything else he could reach before flopping his head down on the pillow and giving him a sappy look.

“Hey,” he said.

"Hey," Alex replied, snaking a hand around Michael's back under his shirt and pulling him towards the center of his bed, kissing him until they both panted for air. Leaving his hands under Michael's clothes, Alex settled on top of him, moving to kiss his cheeks and jaw and neck until Michael was trembling as much as he was. Then he straight up bit Michael's ear just to hear him giggle. 

“Do you think we’ll be able to live together at UNM? I mean, would you want to?”

Michael already didn’t want to go back to Roswell, where he couldn’t be with Alex like this every single night.

"I don't know. Are you allowed to pick your dorm roommates?" Alex asked, still kissing across Michael's neck and chest, and pulling his shirt up and off to do it. He sat up to take his own shirt off and stuffed both of them down under the covers. "You might be in fancy scholarship housing separate from the rest of us."

“I think we can put in a request,” Michael said, curving his hands around Alex’s shoulders, enjoying the feel of skin under his fingers. “If they try and put me in fancy housing, I’ll just turn it down. Or convince them to give me a plus-one.”

Alex grinned, tracing his fingertips over Michael's face, mapping him in the moonlight. "Let's put in a request. My mom's going to help me with applications. I'm going with you, one way or another."

Michael made a happy, crooning noise and snuggled in closer, pressing their chests together, tangling their legs, making sure not to jostle Alex’s old injury, tucking his face into Alex’s neck and holding him tightly.

Against his skin, Michael said, “I love you. I love you. I’m never going to stop saying it. I can’t believe…”

Alex kissed him quiet. "Michael Ortecho.  _ I _ have to believe in aliens in this relationship. I think I win the incredulity contest." He giggled. "Now get the rest of your clothes off."

…

Michael was so warm that Alex didn’t even need blankets to sleep, so warm that it made him giddy for the winter to set in and giddier that Albuquerque got colder than Roswell and stayed colder longer. But it also meant that Alex got sweaty and had to get up extra early to take another shower, and came back to his room to Michael just waking up, all sleepy and cute with half his curls mashed flat and the other sticking straight up.

“What times it?” he mumbled, leaning out of bed to rummage through his bag.

"Time to get up if we want to see the Natural History Museum and Planetarium on the way home," Alex said, leaning down and kissing Michael on the forehead. He grinned lasciviously. "Can I stay and watch you get dressed?"

“I dunno, are we gonna get distracted?” Michael said, rolling out of bed, giving Alex a peek as he did. He blindly reached down and tugged a pair of jeans free, then scrambled to grab something that fell out as he did, with an “Ohfuck—”

Alex caught the bottle, thinking it was lotion and fully prepared to tease Michael about that, when he held it up and an actual guffaw escaped. He was torn between not wanting to think about Michael either buying it when he was with Maria, or thinking about him stealing it from his sisters, and actually thinking that might have made last night go a little easier. "Oh my  _ God _ , Michael!" 

“Liz and Rosa were messing with me!” Michael bemoaned, yanking his underwear on and then his jeans. “You weren’t supposed to see it, when they stuck it in there I didn’t even think, I never imagined we’d actually…”

“I don’t even want to think about  _ why… _ ” Alex giggled again, quickly shoving the lube back into Michael’s bag when he heard his mother moving around in the kitchen. He kissed Michael, but they were sloppy with laughter, and Alex found himself pressing Michael back onto the bed as they kissed, even though they were supposed to be getting packed and out the door. 

The coffee pot beeped, and Alex sat up, licking his lips, caught with his knee wedged between Michael’s legs. He chuckled lowly. “Sorry. I’m gonna go help my mom. Stop molesting you.” 

“Don’t leave me like this!” Michael whined, sprawling out on the bed when Alex climbed off of him, but no matter how pitiful he acted Alex just snickered and winked and left him hanging anyway. Michael took his time packing the last of his stuff so what they were up to wasn’t  _ too  _ obvious when he headed into the kitchen too.

“You want me to scramble up some eggs or you want to get food on the road?” Mindy asked, as Alex poured himself and Michael a glass of orange juice. 

“You actually  _ have  _ eggs, mom?” Alex teased. 

“Hush, I know how to cook eggs,” she scolded. “If I know how to cook one thing...the hens are always laying, and we don’t let ‘em go to waste.”

“I can take care of it if you want,” Michael offered. “You can go ahead and sit down, Ms. Benally…”

“I’ll make you a deal. You make breakfast and I’ll let you call me Mindy,” she said with a wink. 

Michael worked quickly and efficiently, and they were soon eating pillowy scrambled eggs in tortillas with cheese: a little plain, but after all the rich food they’d had all weekend, it was nice. They finished packing, washed dishes against Mindy’s wishes, and got big hugs before they were on their way. 

“Drive safe, boys. Text me when you’re in Roswell, okay?” 

“I’ll e-mail you about the applications,” Alex said. “I think they’re due next month. Love you, mom.” 

“Love you, too, Alex. Michael, it was nice to meet you. You keep an eye on this guy for me, okay?” Mindy said, hugging Michael, as well. 

“I definitely will, Ms.—Mindy,” Michael said.

Then they were back on the road, Michael driving, their fingers interlaced on the bench seat between them.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Something to keep our American readers occupied while waiting in line at the polls today! VOTE!

Maria was so painfully bored. She even picked up a couple of shifts at the Crashdown since everyone was gone and Mr. Ortecho could use her in addition to her usual hours at the Emporium. She had been smart about this, gobbling up all the extra hours left behind by her friends on the long weekend so she actually scored some overtime and the extra cash that came with it. Which was great, but even when she came home physically exhausted on Sunday night and Alex and Michael still weren’t even back yet, she was so mentally understimulated she could scream. Her mom was working at the Pony all night, Rosa was in Santa Fe and would be until tomorrow, Liz would definitely be in bed at this hour, and...Maria had never felt so alone. 

_ Get used to it _ , she told herself. This is what it’s going to be like in a year. Michael, Alex, Liz, all off to college. Rosa, probably working full-time in Santa Fe by then. Hell, even Kyle and the Evanses were probably heading to college… 

Maria grabbed her phone from her bag. She wasn’t, actually, alone tonight. Not yet. Maybe she would be, one day, and she’d figure out how to deal with it then, but right now there was one person in this whole town who would talk to her, and might even let her crash her rich girl entertainment center in the basement of her rich girl house.

As the phone rang Maria briefly wondered why the thought of calling Chad had never crossed her mind in all of that, but then Isobel picked up. 

“Maria? Is everything alright?” 

Maria blinked. Not the reaction she expected. Then, “Oh, you mean with Michael! Yes, everything’s fine, they’re having a good time and—I might even have gossip for you, actually, but I’m just so bored and…” 

“And literally everyone else is out of town and I’m your only hope?” Isobel said snottily. “Harsh, DeLuca, but if that’s the only way we’re going to pass the Bechdel test together, you should probably come over. Can I pick you up?” 

“Please,” Maria caved.

… 

The Evans’ basement was as mind-blowing as always. It seemed like every time Maria came down here, some new amenity had been added, a minifridge or a built-in soda bar or a new sound system or  _ something.  _ Isobel immediately flopped down on an enormous couch that wasn’t here last time and curled up around a bowl of trail mix that she only ate the chocolate out of. Maria sat down on the other end of the couch.

“I almost volunteered to bring movies over or something, but it looks like you’re all set,” she teased. 

"You said you had gossip, DeLuca. Gossip that involves my brother. I'm holding the ice cream and movies hostage until you spill."

“You were the one who invoked the Bechdel test,” Maria snarked. But, honestly, she had to tell  _ someone.  _ “ _ So.  _ It seems like  _ my  _ brother is so hardcore he makes ‘meet the parents’ a  _ first date. _ ”

“ _ What _ ?!” Isobel shrieked in delight. She leaned back in the chair, kicking her feet in the air. “Finally! Jesus! What happened, what did he tell you? Oh my God, we should wait outside your house for when they get home!” 

Isobel leapt off the couch and headed for the fridge. This definitely deserved ice cream.

“ _ No  _ way. Do that and Alex is probably likely to whisk Michael away and lock him in a tower or something.” 

"You know how disturbing it is how similar Alex and Max are? We should have been bonding over this for years." 

Isobel came back with a carton of cookies and cream and Maria wasted no time in digging in, continuing, “I don’t know  _ that  _ much. Alex just called me at like 1 am the other night to make sure  _ I  _ was okay since Michael and I have only been broken up for, like, two months. He’s so stupid.”

"Not as stupid as Michael is." Isobel giggled. "Okay, so they, what, kissed? Slept together? They spent all day today at museums based on the texts I got from Michael. That doesn't seem very bros being bros to me." 

“I mean, it does when our bros are gigantic nerds."

"Ugh. Good point." Isobel thought vaguely of raiding her mother's liquor cabinet for this occasion, but since Ms. DeLuca worked at a bar, Maria probably wouldn't be impressed. 

"But they did a lot of other stuff too; Alex’s family has a farm. Michael rode a horse. He’s almost as much of a horse girl now as Kate Long used to be.”

Isobel made a gagging sound and laughed. "How does an engineering nerd come to be a horse girl? And how did I not know this about him? How's Alex? Did he keep it together or start reciting Shakespearean sonnets?"

“I’m sure he did  _ not _ keep it together. That boy is terrible at experiencing emotion. I’m sure it was one hell of a catharsis. They’re going to be insufferable. If we thought Max and Liz were bad…”

“At least Michael and Alex have finally gotten together, though,” Isobel groaned. “If I have to deal with Max’s pining any longer I’m going to lock him and Liz in a closet together. In the labs at school so the proximity to science will put Liz in the right mood. No, wait. I’m going to lock  _ him  _ in Liz’s trunk when she goes on that road trip! She’ll have to take him with her then!” 

“Sounds like a plan,” Maria said, clinking their spoons together. “What’s Max even doing after graduation? Gap year? Is he going to backpack across Europe or something?”

"Oh, he's definitely working on our parents to let him study English at Colorado State...so at least he'll be pining away from me." Isobel's face darkened somewhat. "If  _ I _ wanted to study English and  _ Max _ wanted to do Pre-law we'd be having a much easier conversation with our parents, you know."

“So your parents are loaded enough to pay for college, but they just, like, won’t do it unless you pick the right thing? That’s pretty stupid. Can’t you, like, ask to speak to their manager or something?”

"Grandma and grandpa?" Isobel wondered. "Nah, they're worse. It's fine. It's not like dad isn't a lawyer himself or anything. He'll come around, and then it's just convincing mom that she raised a househusband and a career daughter."

Isobel waved a hand. "Enough about me. Are you going to stay in Roswell or try college? I know Michael wants you to go to Albuquerque and Rosa wants you to go to Santa Fe. I barely talk to Alex but I know he would give his right leg  _ and _ his right nut nut to not break up the band, and I know you're just as good as he is at the whole music thing. What do  _ you _ want to do?"

“Honestly? I just want to make money, and the best way to do that is to keep living with my mom while I find a steadier job. I thought about following Alex and Michael to UNM to get a business degree or something, but it seems like a waste of time, and money, I don’t know. As for Rosa…” 

Was she really about to ask  _ Isobel Evans  _ for advice on this? Well, at least she wasn’t likely to be an asshole, not about this.

“Um, things with Rosa are...complicated.”

Isobel raised her eyebrows. "Okay, the money thing I get. It's all I care about too, especially if I'm going to somehow pay for a law degree on my own. What's the deal with Rosa? I promise I can be serious. And confidential, if I must." Rosa had told Isobel she had a crush on Maria, after all, and she hadn't told anyone about that. 

Maria grabbed a pillow and hugged it to her chest. “I don’t know. She, um, kind of accidentally ended up telling me she loved me after homecoming, and I...I don’t know, I thought I didn’t feel that way about her, but ever since, she’s all I’ve been able to think about.”

Isobel nodded, face oddly impassive. “Well, good for her. And you, giving yourself space to think about it. Have your psychic visions been any help? Read your own palm or whatever?” 

Maria couldn’t be sure but got the vague impression Isobel was teasing her. She glared in her direction, squeezing the pillow tighter.

“I did a tarot reading,” she admitted. “But it was inconclusive. I mean, seven of cups? Like, I  _ know,  _ I don’t need sass from a pack of cards.”

Isobel laughed. “I don’t know much about tarot, but ouch. Maybe you could let me draw for you? Would that do anything to the mojo or whatever? I have a deck, you should teach me, anyway.” 

“Nah, I always draw for myself. Doesn’t feel right otherwise.” She shot Isobel a shrewd look. “Sure, I can teach you. I won’t even charge. But if any of your bridge-club-daughter compatriots want to get a little mystical, I’ll give you my rates to pass on.”

“Ha!” Isobel said, thundering up the stairs to her room and coming down with the tarot deck. “I mostly bought it to freak my mom out. And Rosa thought they were cool and convinced me...” 

Isobel paused, held the tarot deck to her chest, and narrowed her eyes. 

“You know, I think she gets that vibe from you. Like, she doesn’t think the tarot deck is cool as much as she thinks  _ you  _ think they’re cool, and that rubs off on a person. Maybe this deck has her thinking of you all over it.” Then she shrugged and handed them to Maria, and put the ice cream away. 

Maria hefted the deck in her hand. She never thought of herself as a big believer in having to form a relationship with a deck to get a good reading the way some people did, but for a moment she wished she put more stock in that kind of energy, if only because it might be able to tell her something about Rosa. 

Sliding onto the floor, Maria grabbed a folded blanket to use as a mat and sat cross legged in front of it, starting to shuffle.

“So the first and most important thing is thinking of the question you’re going to ask. It should be specific, but not so specific there’s no room for interpretation. Tarot—any kind of fortune telling, really—isn’t about hard-line yes or no. It’s about helping you pick the right path.”

"Okay," Isobel hummed, sitting down across from her. "Let's ask it about  _ Rosa's _ love life. Can we do that?"

“Not really? Um, it works better for personal stuff, like to help you make choices or figure out what’s stopping you from doing something. So  _ I  _ could ask it what I should do with regards to Rosa, but reading for someone who’s not here isn’t really…”

“Okay, fine. Ask it if my parents will come around,” Isobel said. She wanted to get Maria into the groove before springing the real questions on her, after all. 

“Okay,” Maria said, starting to shuffle. “What’s beneath that question, Isobel? Do you want to know how  _ you  _ can convince your parents? Are you searching for understanding as to why they’re being stubborn about this? Or do you want to know if you’re choosing the right path for yourself no matter how they object?”

"Oh, I  _ know _ the second one. Right or wrong I'm doing it." The idea of convincing people without the use of her powers appealed to her very much, so it was this or marketing or something, but the ICE incident with Mr. Ortecho had done a lot to nudge her in the lawyer direction. "So, right. How can I convince them? If they can't accept me not adhering to gender norms, how can I ever tell them I'm an alien?"

This last question came out almost by accident, and Isobel blushed and scowled. "Maybe I know the answer to that question, too."

“Yeah, that’s hard. Have you talked to Max about wanting to tell them? What did he have to say?” Maria asked, cutting the deck into three and gesturing for Isobel to combine them.

"Oh, he doesn't want to. Too many people know already," Isobel said, arranging the deck. "So: can I convince them?"

“Go ahead and draw three cards. Lay them left to right in front of you on the mat, face up or face down, whichever feels right to you,” Maria said calmly. She wasn’t putting on any of the fakey mystical airs she might do for someone  _ like  _ Isobel Evans, or like she might have done for Isobel herself a couple years ago, before she’d grown to see who she was beneath the layers of performance.

Isobel nodded, drawing the cards and trying to feel out whether she wanted any of them flipped before turning them over. She wasn’t sure whether she cheated on the first card—the Ten of Cups—because she wanted it upright and had to flip it once she saw it. The Hierophant came up reversed, and that seemed fine, he looked like a jerk, anyway. And last was a rather pretty card, the page of wands, also upright. “Okay! What’s my future, Madame Zeroni?” 

“You never go to law school and you inherit a cursed pig farm and end up falling down a mountain when you don’t take your grandma to drink from a stream,” Maria snapped. It had been a long time since she’d read  _ Holes.  _

“I only saw the movie,” Isobel said, and sounded genuinely apologetic when she added, “Sorry.”

She continued, “Anyway. So we’re doing a really simple and useful spread to help you overcome a challenge. The card on the left represents a Blessing that will help you with what you’re facing. The card in the middle characterizes the Challenge itself. And finally, the card on the right represents the Action you should take. Make sense?”

“Yeah. I think so. So, helpful tool, challenge, action. Right?” Isobel leaned over the cards so that their foreheads were almost touching. “What do they mean?” 

“We’re getting to that part! Don’t be so impatient with my phenomenal cosmic powers,” Maria giggled. 

Isobel actually laughed, too. “Fine! In your own time, Miss Cleo.” This time, she winked. 

“So. You drew the ten of cups as your Blessing. Here’s what that tells you: you’re pretty lucky, all things considered. You’re surrounded by love and abundance. Your parents have never once regretted their choice to adopt you, and they truly want what’s best for you. They also hate fighting with you, which means you can probably get your way just by outlasting them...even if that might not be your best strategy.”

“Hm. It’s my  _ usual  _ strategy...” Isobel said. It was good to hear all that about her parents wanting her. It made the alien thing less...scary. “What’s the best strategy? Does it say?” 

“We’ll get to that part at the end! Next is your challenge itself.”

“Boo, I already know that.”

“Sure, but it still helps to spell it out. You drew the Hierophant for this position, one of the major arcana. It’s often said to represent belief, religion, and teaching or education, but in this case I’d say it represents  _ tradition.  _ The whole set of beliefs that have served your parents—white, affluent, a little too comfortable—well their whole lives, as well as the lives of their parents and grandparents. They’re set in their ways. Anything else scares them. They don’t understand why you’re rejecting the lifestyle they’re trying to pass down to you.”

Isobel peered at Maria, trying to determine if she was just very perceptive or if this was magic or an alien power she hadn’t unlocked yet. “...So I just have to help them understand.”

“And the third card will help you understand how. The page of wands—a student, someone passionate and focused. Convincing your parents isn’t the only challenge you’re facing; law school itself is going to be the hardest thing. Your dad is a lawyer, right? Maybe the right way to convince him is to show him how committed you are. Approach the problem like a lawyer. Do your research; make your case. Be confident and show that passion.”

Isobel brightened. Sure, she didn’t care about school ordinarily, but treated like something she could just set her mind to until she was successful? Well, she was very good at that. And, hell, maybe the passionate, focused student in the cards was Kyle Valenti. 

“That’s awesome! I can do that! I may come back to you when I’m putting together the sales pitch, but, thank you, Maria,” she said, gathering up the cards and pushing them back to Maria. “I have another question for you.”

Maria started idly shuffling the cards again. Maybe she should have charged after all. “Okay, lay it on me.”

Isobel didn't miss a beat. "What do  _ you  _ want out of love, DeLuca?”

Maria looked up at her sharply, looking ready to yank the tarot cards away and leave, but Isobel was ready. She put a hand on top of Maria’s, over the deck, and said, “Forget what you think you  _ should  _ want. Forget what Rosa wants. What do you want? Read that in the deck.” 

Maria glared at her, but she clenched her fist around the deck, took a deep breath, and closed her eyes. What was the harm in it? Was there a point in being contrary just because it was Isobel Evans?

She set the deck down, cut it into three, and reassembled it, then drew three cards. 

Staring at them without really seeing them, she said, “I want to spend the rest of my life with my best friend.”

Isobel nodded, not looking at the cards, either. She got the feeling that Maria wasn’t even reading them. They were maybe just keeping her honest. “How’re you gonna get there, DeLuca?” 

“I need to talk to her. Seriously. About what a future for us looks like. I can’t leave my mom until I know she’s going to be okay, but Rosa needs to be in Santa Fe with other arty people.”

Isobel nodded. “Rosa would cut off her right hand and be a one-handed waitress who never drew again for the rest of her life if it meant staying with you. Is...that what you’re afraid of?” 

“I—maybe a little. I don’t know what I did to deserve love and loyalty like that. I don’t want to mess it up. Ugh, I guess Alex has rubbed off on me or something. I’m feeling all, like,  _ responsible  _ and shit.”

“Maybe when the rest of us are 18 we’ll understand, too. Hey! You know you’re legal now, no statutory for Rosa to worry about.” Isobel winked. “But no, that does sound like a very Manes thing to say. And it’s good to think about her, but that’s step two. I’m still interested in what you want. You want to try kissing me? Just to try it?”

Isobel seriously was game for anything. How had she missed this? 

“Sorry, but I’ve been there and done that. Kissing experiments are old hat for me,” Maria said, shuffling the deck again just for something to do with her hands. “I...appreciate it, though. You’re okay, Isobel.”

“Oh don’t thank me. You’ll regret it when I’m intensely if confidentially nagging you to say something to Rosa. When’s she back in town, by the way? She’s gone, what, Friday through Monday? And then you’re a school when she is here, and she’s at work...we’ll have to set up just the right moment, I think.” Isobel put her chin on her fist adorably. “I guess it’s true absence does make the heart grow fonder.” 

“Yeah, I, um. I miss her a lot?” Maria said, voice cracking, making her clear her throat and reach for a bottle of water. “But Mr. Ortecho is being really cool about letting her take shorter shifts at the diner now that she has another job, so we should be able to grab an afternoon together.”

Isobel was clearly planning something by the look on her face. “Right, right. And she’s not big into the flowers, music, romance, is she?” Isobel peered closer. “No, but  _ you  _ are, aren’t you? Dinner and a movie?” 

Without waiting for an answer, Isobel ran upstairs to her room again and came back downstairs. She set a stack of gift cards between them. “I have a few gift cards I haven’t used and they’re going to expire soon, so take them. Movie theater. Ooh, Applebee’s, the height of lesbian romantic dives! Or, would you guys go to a spa together, or are we back to Rosa chewing her arm off again?” 

When Maria frowned, Isobel said, “I’m paying you for the tarot lesson. And maybe you can name your firstborn after me.” 

Maria narrowed her eyes but swiped the gift cards anyway, exchanging them for Isobel’s tarot deck. 

“Thank you, Isobel. I mean it.”

“You did it yourself, DeLuca. You just had to trust yourself.” She tossed her hair and shrugged. “Maybe having your  _ Mean Girl _ nemesis around having faith in you helped. I didn’t even use my superpowers.”

“You think pretty highly of yourself if you think you’re my  _ nemesis _ .” 

Isobel took her hand. “Uh, hi, I’m Isobel Evans, have we met? Of course I think highly of myself. If I’m not going to be your nemesis I better be in the bridal party.” 

Maria rolled her eyes. 

Isobel completely surprised her by pulling her in for a hug. “I also want to help plan the wedding.” 

“ _ Okay _ , I’m leaving, Isobel. It’s almost midnight,” Maria laughed, thinking how similar Isobel and Michael were in some weird ways: how doggedly helpful, and how their friendliness could stray into exhausting pretty quick. “I’ll text you when the boys get home.” 

“I’ll fill you in on the gossip if you promise to do the same.” 

Maria yawned, grabbing her keys, before remembering Isobel had picked her up. Okay, she was someone who spent her limited text messages on Isobel Evans now and let her drive her around in her brother’s Jeep. “Take me home and you got it.” 

… 

Michael had to beg off his usual Saturday morning shift at the Crashdown, and left early in the morning to visit Sanders’ junkyard. It wasn’t the smartest move for a guy recently entering a new relationship to skip work and the chance to earn more money, but this was important. 

It also was the only time in three years that Michael skipped visiting his mother two weeks in a row, but again, he was sure she would understand.

He arrived at Sanders’ just as dawn was breaking, mysterious blue flowers in tow. Smelling them made him feel vaguely ill, so he kept them sealed in the bag for now, waiting for Sanders to arrive. Sanders was usually in quite early, for which he cited old people problems. This was probably dumb, and he should be asking the shop teacher at school, or the art teacher, for help—both of them liked him—but Sanders was safer for this. Maybe he knew something about Louise Truman. 

Just before 7, Sanders’s battered old truck came rattling up the drive. He took an extra minute or so before getting out, steeling himself for whatever brought Michael here so early. Then, hands in his pockets, he trudged right up to the kid.

“You burning, bleeding, barfing, or broken?” He rasped, rapping on the hood of the truck.

Michael scrambled out of his truck, grateful to see the old man. 

"No, sir. I came to ask a…"  _ favor _ was more accurate but  _ question _ was less likely to get him shut down. "Question. I brought breakfast burritos and churros." He held up a Crashdown bag as evidence. He'd apologize to Arturo later for turning on the stove and frier early. 

“Ah, bribery. This ought to be good. Come on, let’s sit down.”

He led Michael over to the covered work area and shoved junk off the bench so they both could sit. Sanders dug into the food while it was still sort of warm, knowing that the best way to get Michael to talk was to just take attention off of him until he was ready.

Michael made sure Sanders was definitely enjoying the burrito before he opened his mouth. Best to start with the most important question first: “Do you know how to make jewelry? Or can you teach me to weld so I can try to figure it out?"

Sanders paused with the burrito halfway to his mouth, then went on to take the bite anyway and chew thoroughly before he bothered answering. “You fuck up? Flowers work just as well, and if they won’t then you’re probably up shit creek anyway.”

"Uhh," Michael said, wondering if he should just go with this narrative for simplicity, but he decided against it. "No, sir, me and Maria broke up, remember? But I still want to do something nice for her. I've got the flowers—" he placed the ziploc carefully on the table between them— "I want to put them in jewelry, like in a resin, so she can remember me always. These are like forget-me-nots."

That little lie was okay, right?

“I oughta say liars don’t get no favors from me, but I’m old and don’t have the time to weasel the truth out of you. Sure, we’ll figure something out. I can show you a thing or two, but you’re the one that’s gotta have the patience—and the eyesight—for the delicate fiddly shit.”

"Yes, sir," Michael said, regretting the lie. It was probably too late now, but he blurted out, "it's alien stuff. The pollen, uh, stops my powers. And I think it might help my friend and her mom. You remember Mimi? I know it sounds stupid."

“Kid, you and the other two’re the closest thing we’ve got to experts in the field of alien bullshit, so I’m not going to tell you any alien bullshit sounds stupid.” Sanders stood up and threw away the burrito wrapper, ambling over to a box of odds and ends on the shelf nearby. “I bet some kind of glass bead could hold that pollen you’re talking about. Might be faster and easier than figuring out and getting our hands on what kind of resin would preserve the flowers themselves.”

Michael turned to Old Man Sanders with wide eyes, obviously impressed. “You know how to work with glass?” He laughed. “You’ve been holding out on me, old man!” 

“Well I’m hardly gonna be blowing ‘em myself, so don’t be too impressed. Let me see what I’ve got on hand and what you’re gonna owe me and I’ll get back to you when shit comes in.”

With plenty of extras, too, so the kid could learn without too much being on the line.

“Great! Yeah, obviously,” Michael said. “I’ll cover the cost of materials, and your time.” 

They got to work, with Sanders showing him the basics. It was nine in the morning and he was already sweating, because they had to heat up a furnace to ridiculous temperatures to make glass. When they worked into a quiet routine, and after he had learned enough he could be okay on his own at this point if he had to be, Michael ventured, “Did you know a Louise Truman?” 

He had, in the past three years, interrogated every piece of information he could about his mother out of Sanders. It had been both wonderful and horrible to hear stories about her, and they bonded over their loss of her. Michael knew Sanders had had it way worse than he had, because Michael had Arturo now, and Sanders hadn’t had anybody. Michael wondered if Sanders was a picture of the man  _ he  _ could have become, in a lot of ways, if things had been different. Trying to fill that void like he was helping some version of himself, Michael had convinced Sanders to come to Ranchero Nights at the Wild Pony, and kept him company so he didn’t have to talk to anyone else, and he had even convinced Arturo to invite him to Thanksgiving the past two years. So it wasn’t like they weren’t close, but he never knew what questions would hurt Sanders so badly that he would just shut down and not speak to him for a week, so he tried to tread carefully. 

“...Was she related to my mom?” 

“Ah, fuck!” Sanders swore as he dropped the beer in his hand, sending it spilling across the dust. Shooting Michael a sharp look, he said, “Yeah, I knew her. Told you a bit about her, too. Miss Louise. I don’t think they were related by blood, but they were close enough to be sisters. Posed as sisters, too, taking the same last name. Why d’you ask?”

Michael scrambled to pick up the beer, saving at least half of it. Maybe a quarter. He handed it, foaming and dusty, to Sanders. “I, uh.” Michael pressed his lips together, already guessing how this would upset the old man. “I think I found her grave.”

Sanders gave him a sharp glare, but Michael continued. “I’d’ve thought it was just someone with the same name but, uh. She died the year—the day—we came out of the...pods.” 

_ Right. Tell the sad old guy that one of the few people who made him briefly happy hadn’t been dead as he assumed but had been alive and never tried to find him _ .

“She was on the Navajo reservation, I think. Until 1997,” Michael said, trying not to cry himself at the realization that Sanders had to lose someone he knew and loved twice. 

After a long moment of silence, Sanders sighed and sat down heavily, setting the ruined beer aside.

“Quit looking at me like that,” he snapped, then sighed again. “She had a beautiful spirit, Miss Louise did. A spitfire, but with the kindest heart I’ve ever encountered. If we could have helped each other...but no. That night changed everything. We couldn’t have been a family again. I’m...glad. That she survived. That she had people. Everyone needs people.”

"I think she was sick, after...after everything," Michael said, and he was crying now, full-on crying in a way he hadn't let himself cry in front of Alex or Harrison. "She was injured. Couldn’t walk or talk. She had a baby, I guess. It was adopted. She couldn't even care for her own kid…she didn't leave you on purpose, I know. She wouldn't have, if she didn't have to." 

“Can’t change the past. We can’t ever change the past. Just gotta hold on to the good things and keep moving forward. Come on, kid. Come sit down. You’re alright.”

Michael sat next to him, wiping his eyes furiously. "Sorry. I don't know why I'm crying. You're the one who knew them both and…" he heaved, managing to get his breathing under control. "I'm sorry. I thought you might know more. Or want to know...God, that was dumb. I'm sorry. Of course you didn't want to know."

“Kid!” Sanders said, grabbing his shoulder and giving him a shake. It was awkward, but what did he know about comforting a kid in a situation like this? “Michael. I ain’t mad. I’m never gonna be  _ over  _ what happened to our family, but...I’m an old man. Got too many what ifs in my life to torture myself with one more. It’s  _ okay. _ ”

Michael nodded, and turned and embraced the old man. He might never have done it if the Ortechos hadn't turned him into such a hugger, and Sanders was obviously surprised by it. "Still, I'm sorry. Thanks for always being here for me."

“Yeah, yeah, that’s me, I’m a real sweetheart,” Sanders snarked, topping out his limited capacity for emotional moments. “Look, your dad’s probably lookin’ for you. We’ve done enough for today. No charge for the lesson and I’ll send you the bill for the materials we’ll need to actually make the bracelet.”

Michael wiped his eyes and sniffed. He gathered his flowers up again and the little lumps of glass. "Either you let me pay you or you come to Sunday dinner tomorrow."

“You drive a hard bargain. I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

Sanders shooed Michael off and cleaned up most of the work area before his back started hurting enough that he just left it for Michael to finish next time he came by.

He was a good kid.


	18. Chapter 18

“What are you doing?” Alex said, as Michael scrambled to his feet, newly finished bracelets in hand. “They’re gifts, we have to wrap them first!” 

Jewelry-making tools were spread out all over the floor of Alex’s room, pliers and wire and clasps they had bought from a jeweler. Alex insisted on taking on the bulk of the costs, primarily because Michael had done most of the labor in the junkyard. So when it came to buying clasps and fittings and wire, Alex bought the best. “We want these to last,” he had said. “Until we figure something else out.” 

“And Maria’s allergic to cheap jewelry,” Michael said. 

“I hope you didn’t find that out the hard way!” Alex laughed, torn between being offended on his sister’s behalf or offended that his boyfriend was talking about his ex-girlfriend. He got over it pretty quickly, though. 

“I didn’t know!” Michael moaned. “I saw a pair of earrings and thought of her! You don’t have to kill me, I have three sisters, they beat you to it…”

These bracelets were nice, though. Simple and a little clumsy, but nice, each one with three glass beads full of pollen. Michael had already tried them on himself, and it was a little scary how well they worked, but this wasn’t about him.

Alex chuckled, standing up and kissing Michael’s cheek. “For the record, I  _ can  _ wear cheap jewelry, but I don’t like to.” 

He went to a drawer shoved under his bed that was full of construction paper in all colors. He handed Michael lavender for Maria, and chose a pretty burnt orange for Mimi, and he showed Michael how to fold origami boxes. Resting tissue paper inside, they presented fine gifts. 

“Okay. Now we can go.” 

Before they left the room, Michael hooked his arm around Alex’s waist and pulled him in, resting their foreheads together.

“Thank you for helping me with this,” he said. “I know they’re your family, I know you didn’t do it for me, but...thank you. I love you.”

“Thank  _ you _ , you dork,” Alex said, nudging their noses together and kissing his lips. “I did it for them. You did the bulk of the work, and tested them on yourself, and—and the DeLuca women are their own saviors, and part of them I know hate having a man in the house, and that’s fair, but we’re allowed to help sometimes.” 

“Hear, hear,” Michael murmured against his lips.

Alex gave him a squeeze, and they left the room. 

“They’re dressed, Mama! You win!” Maria cried, looking up from her textbook where she sat at the table. 

“It’s still not funny,” Alex grumbled. “Maybe we  _ don’t  _ have presents for you.” 

Maria snapped her book closed. 

“Um,” Michael said, by way of introducing the subject, “I don’t know, you might be mad, but I just thought…” He handed his box over to Maria. “Over Fall Break, we found more of those flowers. At the graveyard. So I thought if we could make more jewelry like Mimi’s necklace...you wouldn’t be forced to choose.”

Mimi stood in the doorway, watching them. “More flowers?” 

Alex stepped up to her, holding out the orange box. She took it, and opened it, looking at the bracelet. 

“I know you’re worried about Maria, but we’re worried about  _ you _ . Don’t make me go all man of the house on you, Mimi, please. It’ll look bad for all of us. Just wear it. That or the necklace.” 

“Did you boys  _ make  _ these?” Mimi asked, holding the bracelet to the light to examine the pollen in the beads.

“Mr. Sanders helped me make the beads, and Alex got the jewelry making stuff,” Michael said. “I know they’re not fancy or anything, but Alex is right. You both should have the protection you deserve.”

“Until we figure something else out,” Alex said. 

“Figure something else out…” Mimi repeated, as if remembering something from long ago. She let Alex clasp the bracelet around her wrist, and then took his hand, leading him back to her room. “Come with me.” 

Alex turned to give Maria and Michael a wide-eyed look as he followed her. 

“Should we go with them?” Michael wondered out loud. Maria just gave him a scathing look, grabbed his wrist, and hauled him after them.

Mimi opened the chest at the foot of her bed and dug through it for a moment, shifting clothes and photo albums to come up with a turquoise-inlaid box.

“My mama left this for me. It never had a key,” she said. “It might have...I don’t know, I never felt it was the right time, you now? It was hers, and she never opened it. But maybe there’s something in here we need to figure out. Related to my family—” she looked at Alex, “and yours—” finally, she nodded at Michael, “and yours.” 

Michael hesitated only for a second—it was old habit to hide, but everyone here already knew. “I can open it,” he said. “If you want me to.”

Mimi nodded firmly. It was an easy lock to pick, so Michael did, and the box clicked open. Inside was a notebook, which Mimi handed directly to Maria.

“I know it’s to do with all of you.” 

“You know, or you  _ know?”  _ Maria said, gripping the necklace around her own neck tightly, eyes falling to the bracelet now around Mimi’s wrist. Was it not working? Was her mom still getting premonitions? Still going to get sick?

"I  _ knew _ ," Mimi corrected. "I've always known."

When Maria didn’t take the notebook immediately, Mimi handed it off to Alex, who took it, solemnly if warily. It weighed like it had the answers to all of his questions: who Louise Truman was, who Tripp was, and who, ultimately, the DeLucas were. 

Alex and Mimi locked eyes, and Alex nodded. An exchange between allies. The bracelet for information. 

At the kitchen table, Michael, Alex, and Maria gathered around the notebook. Maria set it in the center of the table.

“It’s your family heirloom,” Alex said, sliding it back to her to read.

Maria took it nervously, and cracked it open with care. “This was written to my Grandma Patty, I guess…” She wiped a finger through the dust coating the name ‘Tripp Manes’ and looked up at Alex. “From Tripp Manes?” 

Alex snatched the notebook back to peer closer, investigating the signature like he could tell if it was a forgery. 

“Maybe you should read it,” Maria laughed, though Alex felt bad for his grabby hands and tried to give it back. But Maria insisted, “Read it aloud to me, since it’s from a Manes to a DeLuca,” so Alex held it gently open and began to read. 

They made their way through the information slowly; everything Tripp knew about Louise, everything he wanted to tell her daughter, about her father, Roy Bronson, who gave his life doing what was right, about the fact that she had a half-sister hidden in a pod somewhere—something that made Michael’s heart thump and made him itch to call Isobel—down to everything he knew about Nora, Michael’s mother. It read half as a narrative of his life and half a letter to Patricia. Several times, someone went to get Alex water so he could keep reading, and by the time he finished, it was almost evening.

“Your uncle was in love with my mom?” Michael blurted out.

“Not  _ very _ , if he left her in Caulfield,” Alex snapped, wondering how a man like that got his name up on a war memorial. “ _ I’m _ stuck on the fact that Maria’s great-grandma is an alien!”

“That would explain some things,” Maria said, staring at the bracelet. She grinned at Michael. “Does this mean  _ we’re  _ great-great cousins, or something?” 

Michael blushed bright red. “Maybe,” he said, in a voice just bordering on horrified. 

“Hey, if it’s good enough for Luke and Leia, and like, Jamie and Cercei…” Alex let out a  _ snrk.  _ “Depends on whether Nora and Louise were actually related or just took the same alias. Tripp mentioned a daughter, not a son. So maybe Isobel isn’t actually related to either of you? Guess we won’t know that until your mom wakes up from the pod.” 

“I wish Mama had heard this,” Mimi said, staring into space, rolling the beads on her own bracelet. “Being adopted wasn’t easy for her. Most things weren’t, in this town, at that time. But she was an incredible woman. Why would Tripp not have given her the key?”

Alex shrugged, having no defense for the man. He didn’t have a lot of defense for many of the men in his family, so one more disappointment didn’t hurt. “Not sure when he died. Maybe he wanted to give it to her when she was older, but never got the chance? Or maybe he was just a coward.” 

But Maria shrugged. “I dunno, Mama, would you have believed we were part-alien if you didn’t know about all this stuff first?” 

“I don’t know,” Mimi admitted. “Probably? I think both you disrespectful kids would say that I’m not exactly above flights of fancy. But I learned about Project Shepherd young, when I was you kids’ age.”

Alex nodded, reconsidering his hasty judgments. Jim and Mimi had known about Project Shepherd and hadn’t done anything for a long time out of fear for themselves and their families, and he didn’t blame them (much), so was it fair to blame Tripp? Not everyone could take down a secret alien base with only a four-man team of 13-year-olds and a geriatric, after all, he thought smugly. 

“I need to talk to Max and Isobel,” Michael said. “Um, but I won’t show them the journal if you guys don’t want me to...it’s your family heirloom.”

Maria and Mimi looked at each other. “No, I mean, it’s—Isobel certainly has a right to that information, too,” Maria began, and Mimi nodded. “They should be able to see it.”

Then Maria laughed. “God,  _ Isobel _ ? All we know for certain at the end of this is that  _ I’m  _ related to  _ Isobel _ ?” 

“You get used to it,” Michael said with a roll of his eyes and a smile that slid quickly off his face. “I wonder what this means for Max, though. There wasn’t any mention of Louise having a son.”

Even after all this time being part of the Ortecho family, Michael remembered what it felt like to be unwanted, unconnected. He never wanted Max to feel like that.

Alex shrugged. "Maybe his parents were killed in the crash? Or maybe they're somewhere in the pods. But he and Isobel have that connection…” Alex frowned. "I guess you all do."

Maria patted Michael's arm. "I guess you want to tell them yourself. But if Isobel wants to talk, she's got my number."

"We should have our great aunt over for dinner, sometime," Mimi said with a wink. 

“I think she’d like that, even if she’d never say so.”

Michael turned to Maria, then, chewing on his lip, unsure if he should put her on the spot but feeling like...he had to. But ready for her to be furious with him.

“So will you wear the bracelet?” he asked softly.

Maria threw her arms around Michael. "I will. Mostly. Long as Mom does."

"Maria Amy DeLuca...Truman," Mimi scolded, raising an eyebrow. 

But Maria raised hers right back. Mimi reached out a hand, so they could shake on it. 

…

The glow of the pods cast a weird, pinkish light across their faces, but it was bright enough to read by. Isobel curled over the journal, eyes feverishly scanning the pages, while Max leaned back with his arms folded.

“...So yeah,” Michael said. “He talks about your mom a lot. Patricia’s mom. They called her Louise, but her name was probably different in our language...it seems like she was an amazing woman.”

“Louise…” Isobel gasped, and then sucked in a breath, one of profound sadness but also relief. Her mother was gone forever, but had never endured Caulfield… She swallowed, and didn’t say any more. 

“So, uh. No mention of a son, huh?” Max asked, trying not to sound as disappointed as he felt. 

Michael shook his head, curling his knees up to his chest. He knew what it felt like to be on the outside, to feel alone and forgotten. He didn’t want Max to feel that way now but also didn’t know how to remind him of all the family he had around him without coming off like a dick.

Isobel came to the rescue, throwing an arm around Max’s shoulders. “I’m not really mentioned either, just because Louise had another daughter. I bet she was your mom too. It’s okay.”

Max chuckled, shrugging. “Yeah, maybe—I don’t know. Maybe they were killed in the crash, I guess.” He blinked rapidly, and laughed at himself for doing so. “It’s just crazy to think we might not actually be related, I just—” 

Isobel hugged him as his voice cracked. 

Michael crab-walked the few inches between them to join in on the hug. “There has to be a reason we were all together,” he said. “‘Cause we were, side by side, for fifty years. You were protected like us. You were loved. I know it.”

Max huffed, and got his arms around both of them in turn. Both of them were so narrow he could get one arm completely around each of them. “I  _ am  _ loved.” 

He held onto the hug as long as he thought they’d go for it, and then sniffed and let them go. “But, okay. Louise Truman fell in love with a human—and Maria’s grandmother is that child? How do we know this? What did Maria and Ms. DeLuca say?” 

“Mimi said they had an idea her mom had alien heritage, because she got involved with Project Shepherd back in high school to try and find information about her condition. And Patricia DeLuca was adopted, with the power-suppressing necklace the only thing she had from her birth mother, so…”

“I mean, those could  _ still  _ be coincidences...” Max ventured. 

“There was also the notebook addressed to Patricia. It’s pretty clear, I think…”

Isobel rifled back to the first page, all the things she’d missed in her eagerness to find the mention of herself.. “Who wrote it? Was it my mom’s?” 

She got to the first page and made a face after skimming it. “Ugh. Another Manes?” 

“Yeah. Alex’s great-great uncle, or something. Apparently he was, uh, in love with my mom, so he helped Louise get away when the barn was raided. Alex and I also found his name on the monument at Window Rock and talked to his old friend Harrison, so there’s a connection there, too.”

"So that's how she got on the Reservation," Isobel said, nodding at the mention of Harrison. "That's good—no offense to Alex, but he'd probably agree with me—I'm not sure I trust a Manes alone."

She sniffed, petting the pages. Then she looked from Max to Michael, as if judging how Max would take this. "Are  _ we _ related, Michael?"

“I don’t think so. At least, Harrison and Sanders didn’t think your mom and mine were related. So I think we’re all in the same boat, really. Maybe we were all cousins? Maybe, maybe your parents had to stay behind for some reason and just wanted you to have a better life, Max.”

Max nodded, though he didn’t think that was true, and he shook his head. “Not if the only memory I have from before is being chained to the floor of a cave, all alone in the dark.” 

Isobel frowned, rubbing his arm. “Well. Maybe  _ someone  _ wanted something better for you, since we left that place.” 

“Yeah,” Max laughed bitterly. “Maybe your parents left our planet to save  _ me _ , so everything that happened to them is my fault.” 

“C’mon, man,” Michael said, lightly punching Max’s other shoulder. “We were seven years old.  _ Nothing  _ was  _ your fault. _ Someday, we’ll be able to ask our people about it, and they’ll tell us all about your family, okay? But you have us.”

Max sniffed, and rewarded Michael’s kindness by wrapping him up in a huge bear hug. Just when Michael thought Max was going to let him go, he just tugged Isobel into the hug, too. “I know. I love you guys.” 

“We love you, too, brother,” Isobel said, squeezing him just as hard. 

“We should hang out more,” Michael said when they all let each other go, each of them a little teary-eyed. “Who wants to go camping again?”

“NO,” Isobel emphasized, crossing her arms tightly.

…

Using the school computers to write her university and scholarship applications held several appeals that using her computer at home didn’t: one, there were school librarians and tutors on hand to help her, if she needed them (she didn’t); two, she could keep her work secret from her parents, who didn’t actually think she would go through with it, anyway,  _ and  _ her father had even told her that if she got into a university, and got  _ one  _ scholarship, no matter how small, he would fund the rest of her college career, so she wanted to keep this secret so he wouldn’t try to weasel out; three, she got to spend  _ most  _ of the time making out with Kyle Valenti, the fallen from grace quarterback, bad boy and good guy in one, behind the monitors. 

That, it had to be said, was Kyle’s favorite part. He was pretty set on Michigan, even though he was stuck on the waitlist.

So it was a bit of a mood killer when they ran to their favorite computers for lunch period only to find Alex already there, on the computer right smack in the middle.

“Can I help you?” He asked, arching an eyebrow as they gave him the stink eye.

"You wanna scooch over one station, or do you want us flirting at each other through you?" Isobel asked bluntly. 

Kyle, from behind her, winced in apology at Alex. 

“Flirt away,” Alex said archly, turning back to the screen. “I’m in the middle of something.”

“C’mon, man, who even takes the middle computer…” Kyle said, then cut himself off when Alex shot him a downright amused look that he was actually  _ whining  _ about this.

"I know, right? Not even the fact that he's dating my brother and I could ruin his life if I wanted to will change his mind," Isobel sighed and dropped her bag to Alex's left. 

"Iz, come on. We can work fast and take this to my house when we're done," Kyle admonished, tugging her into his side for a kiss. 

Alex made a grossed-out face and hunched his shoulders...but also dug his heels in. He was down to the last question on his application and moving computers would  _ not  _ be worth it. 

“The life-ruining is mutual, Evans,” he said. “If you think I’m bothered by  _ you  _ swapping spit in front of me, imagine how you’ll feel when it’s your brother. Plus, you have no idea how much this guy’s dad owes me. Say goodbye to getting the car for date night.”

"Rude, Manes," Isobel huffed. "Using our dear elders against us? I don't suppose you heard…"

But Kyle was giving her a pleading look, so she waved a hand, conceding the victory. 

"Fine. Well what are  _ you _ working on?"

“Scholarships,” he said shortly, barely biting back a defensive jab about not all of their families being able to afford to send them to college debt-free. “What are  _ you two  _ working on? Neither of you strike me as the type to be aroused by the wealth of knowledge at our fingertips.”

"No need to be an ice queen, Alex, that's my job," Isobel said. "But it just so happens we're working on the same."

Kyle winced slightly at their head-butting, but carried on. "...Maybe we could all read over each other's personal statements and things?"

A frankly evil smile spread over Alex’s face. “Sure, Valenti, I’d love to help you edit your statements. I have so much insight to give, after all.”

Kyle rolled his eyes, not rising to the bait. He deserved this, after all. He sighed and turned back to the monitor. "Yeah, never mind."

Maybe feeling a little bad, Alex relented and said, “Okay, so I’ll actually help. I could do worse than getting a future doctor  _ further  _ indebted to me. And a future...what are you even applying for, Isobel?”

Isobel gave Alex a fake smile. “Daddy’s little lawyer. Thought it would go well with the doctor boyfriend. You know how I  _ love _ matching sets, and pots of money.” 

This was maybe a little too sarcastic, bordering on nasty, based on Kyle’s pointed cough, so Isobel also turned back to her own monitor. 

They worked in silence for a few minutes, the tension dissipating, before Isobel smirked. “Guys, what should I mark down for race/ethnicity?” 

Alex snorted. “I don’t think it’s broken down by galaxy, so probably better stick to what the admissions board can comprehend.”

“Where all are you applying, Alex?” Kyle asked, still trying to mitigate most of the poison in the snark.

“...Just UNM,” Alex replied through gritted teeth, face flaming in anticipation of their teasing.

“Aha!” Isobel said, too loudly for the library. “Don’t act like you have the moral high ground when you’re all in for the University Near Michael.” 

“I think it’s sweet,” Kyle chuckled. “I-I mean, Iz and I are applying to the same places, too. University of Michigan, Boston University, and UCLA.” 

“Pretty big commitment for you two. What will you do if you don’t get in the same places?”

He absolutely wasn’t asking that because he was stressed his late application would keep him from following Michael. Not at all.

“Jedi mind tricks?” Isobel suggested, clearly not entertaining another option, either. “We just need to get in, anyone can get  _ in,  _ they want your money. It’s the scholarships that are competitive.”

Isobel put her head in her hands. Her grades were...fine, but  _ fine  _ didn’t get you scholarships. “I don’t have a snowball’s chance.”

“Isobel,” Kyle said.

“It’s not too late for me to try out for football, right?” Isobel smiled at him wetly. 

Even Alex relented at that. “There have to be scholarships for girls going into law, right? Scholarships for adopted kids? Hell, beauty pageant scholarships? Let’s get creative.”

"They don't give you scholarships just because you're adopted," Isobel said, but a quick internet search proved her wrong. Still, she scoffed. "What do I do, tell the truth?"

“Sure. You have an entire childhood of being adopted that doesn’t involve being an alien. Lean into it. And if they look you up or your parents they might find your origin story anyway, so why not use it?”

Isobel stared at Alex and then stared at her computer screen. One scholarship and an admission. She started to type.

And then stopped mid-sentence and turned back to Alex. “Is Maria going to be okay if we all leave?”

“I...don’t know.” Alex turned back to his computer and hit submit. “She says she will be, but of course she’d say that. I don’t want to leave her here by herself, but…”

“Maybe we should throw her a party or something,” Kyle suggested. “Like a reverse going away party. So she knows we care about her and aren’t, like, abandoning her.”

It was a little awkward, since Kyle wasn’t exactly best friends with DeLuca, but it was worth making the suggestion anyway. Plus he loved a good party.

The way to Alex's heart was caring about Maria, though, so Alex gave Kyle a sappy smile. "I don't know, that might just call attention to it. And it's not like I'm going far, and there's no way Michael will be able to go a month without seeing his dad or Sanders, so it's not like  _ we'll _ be far away." Alex swallowed, licked his lips. He supposed Isobel and Kyle were safe. "She won't admit it, but she  _ really _ misses Rosa, and Rosa's only gone like half the week."

Isobel huffed out a dramatic sigh. “What is it going to take for us to get those two together? This is ridiculous.”

“No plotting,” Alex told her. “Rosa and Maria don’t need us to scheme on them, okay? I would have killed you if you did that to Michael and I.”

"What makes you think we didn't?" Isobel asked, wiggling her fingertips like she was placing a spell on him. "Well, if we did like a party, and just all snuck off— _ " _

"Excuse me," a librarian said. She was one of the cool librarians. "You guys need help? Anything I can do to get you to respect the sanctity of library silence?"

"Actually I do need help, Ms. Baca," Isobel said sweetly. "I have college and scholarship apps due, like, at the end of the week, and I was wondering if you could help me with how to format everything…"

Kyle rolled his eyes fondly at his girlfriend. Yeah, law was going to suit her just fine. 

His grin strayed to Alex, and he raised his eyebrows in sympathy. “It’s not like DeLuca hasn’t got plans, Manes,” he said quietly. “You don’t have to take care of everyone and everything 100% of the time, you know.” 

Alex bristled at that. “I know Maria has plans of her own. But that doesn’t mean I can’t still help her or look out for her. At least, I can damn well try.”

Kyle held up his hands, recognizing Alex’s hard line when he saw it. “I mean, you’re good at it. Taking care of people. I know that more than anyone. I just think you don’t need to stress about it so much.”

“Thanks, I guess,” Alex replied, it not being within him to take that more graciously, at least not from Kyle, or anyone who wasn’t his adoptive sister or mother, or Michael. 

"I want us to all visit each other, Manes," Kyle blurted out, earnest. "The football guys, I couldn't wait to get away from them, even when they were my friends. But...I'm gonna miss you. And Liz and Rosa, the whole gang." Kyle gave him a sheepish smile. "I didn't expect all this to be  _ sad _ . So, thanks for that."

“Well...You’re welcome, Valenti,” Alex said, seized by the absurd urge to stick his hand out for Kyle to shake. “You know, I’m going to miss you too, especially if you’re headed all the way to Michigan. You’re going to freeze your ass off, you know.”

"I might have some ideas how to keep warm," Kyle ventured. 

Isobel interrupted them, "I heard that."

The librarian gave the three of them a deeply amused look and said “Okay, you crazy kids. Anything else I can help you with? Or can I just leave you with a promise to be a little quieter?”

“No, thank you, Ms. Baca,” Alex said politely, pretending he hadn’t heard either Isobel or Kyle.

“Alex, you and Michael should come to the movies with us tonight,” Isobel said, typing away at an application. “Like a double-date. I’ll put pics up on Facebook to subtly peer-pressure Rosa and Maria and Liz and Max to figure this out.” 

Kyle looked briefly like he hadn’t been consulted on the original plan to go to the movies in the first place, but nodded along. “Hey, I like that. Establish a double-date pattern and then invite the others along…” 

“I mean, I’m sure Maria and Rosa would much prefer protesting the War on Drugs as a date night,” Isobel said with a fond roll of her eyes, “but it’s worth a shot.”

Alex privately thought that he’d rather spend an evening alone with Michael than on a double date with anyone else, but he was willing to suffer through a lot for Maria’s benefit.

“Fine, okay,” he said, hitting submit and grabbing his backpack. “I’ll see you guys later. Don’t scandalize Ms. Baca now that I’m not going to be chaperoning you two anymore. I’m going to find Michael and let him know.”

Isobel nodded at Alex, the nod of the one who wore the pants in the relationship to another pants-wearer. She needed to have an in with Alex, make better friends with him, so that they could be allies. “You know what? Tell Michael to ask his dad if he can stay the night at our house, since we might get out of the movie late. And I’ll cover for him if he  _ doesn’t  _ want to actually stay at our house.” 

She winked, not subtly. Kyle looked like he couldn’t believe he was having to hear this. 

Alex’s eyebrows raised dramatically, but then his face shifted into a wry smile. “Alright, Evans. Alright.”


	19. Chapter 19

Rosa leaned back against the lamppost on the edge of Santa Fe’s downtown plaza, waiting for Maria’s orange truck to come into view. She’d lost the sibling bid for the car this week, had taken the bus up for work, and had to be picked up to come back home. Normally, Liz or Michael would drive up to get her, but this week was special. 

Now it was after dark, the week before Christmas, and Santa Fe was bustling with Christmas shoppers—this why Maria was joining her, for some Christmas shopping before they headed back to Roswell. Maria was running a little late, but Rosa, though worried something had gone wrong, kept herself from calling her. There had been snow at the beginning of the week, but it was gone now, so she should be fine. She was going to be fine. Rosa was going to be biting her nails through her gloves, but Maria would get here. 

Rosa leapt up, nearly tripping over her bag, when the distinctive orange truck turned onto the plaza. She waved and ran to meet Maria at a parking spot, throwing herself into the passenger side to hug her friend like she hadn’t seen her in weeks—and she hadn’t, in about two, actually, because Maria had been so busy with final projects and tests before Rosa left for her last week of internship until the new year, so she hadn’t seen her. 

“Maria! I was just about to call you, did you run into trouble?” It was warm in the car, and Rosa shoved her big overnight bag under the seat, getting out her purse for shopping, for lipstick, and coins to feed the meter. 

“Just traffic once I got into town. All these people coming in from out of town to shop, no idea what they’re doing, assholes,” Maria teased with a roll of her eyes, like she wasn’t practically a tourist who didn’t know what she was doing here, either. She double checked her own bag, then pulled down the mirror to check her makeup, then turned the full force of her smile on Rosa. “Ready to go?”

“That’s fair. Small-town tourists,” Rosa teased right back, already feeling like the air had been punched out of her with one look from Maria. Maria’s hair was in one long braid down her back, and her lipstick was a rich mulberry. Rosa wanted to paint with it on her own skin. “Yeah, I’m ready. Did you eat? My papi gave me very strict instructions to buy your food and gas since you came to pick me up. We can do coffee, shop, and then dinner, and home?” 

“Sounds like a plan!” 

Rosa got out of the car, going instantly around the truck as though to help Maria out of her side. “Are you gonna be warm enough? It’s below freezing, girl.” 

Maria pulled her hat down over the tops of her ears and hooked her arm in Rosa’s and held her close. “I’m fine! I forgot my gloves at home, but I’ll be good. It’s not _that_ cold.”

Rosa pulled Maria away from the car, already pulling off her own gloves and leading her towards her favorite (cheapest) place to get coffee (a little diner off the main downtown circuit). “It’s a good thing you’re cute, DeLuca. Take these.” 

“Rosa, no!” If she was blushing at being called cute, well, that was her secret. “They’re your gloves, and you’re the artist—your hands are vitally important, okay?”

If she took the gloves, they’d still be warm from Rosa’s heat, but no, no, she couldn’t take them, even as she blushed harder.

“People who wear pleather fashion jackets when it’s below freezing don’t get to make the rules,” Rosa laughed, tugging the gloves onto Maria’s hands. “Come on, I’ll be fine once we get coffee. My hands are buff, they can take it.” 

Allowing no argument, Rosa tugged Maria into the diner, bellying up to the bar and ordering coffees to go. Maria took hers to the little bar to load it up with cream and as much cinnamon as she could get out of the little shaker while Rosa laughed at her.

“I’m going to buy gloves first thing,” Maria declared. “I can’t let you freeze your fingers off for me! Unless you’d rather we just hold hands to keep warm.”

It was a tease, but one Maria absolutely meant, in a way that had her biting her lip and praying for Rosa to notice.

Rosa turned around slowly. Was it...too much to hope that Maria wasn’t _really_ teasing? Rosa swallowed. “We can definitely do that,” she replied, offering her hand. 

Slowly, Maria slid her hand into Rosa’s and gave it a squeeze.

They needed to talk about this—Maria needed to be honest and tell Rosa how her feelings and thoughts were changing, had changed. But for now, maybe this simple action would be enough.

Rosa’s heart fluttered, and her breath, too, at the simple, chaste touch. “Where, uh, where do you want to go first? Jewelry—uhhh—” Rosa shook her head to clear it. “Who are you still shopping for? I just got paid, so I’ve got basically everyone to worry about.” 

“I’ve got Mom and Alex covered, I’ve got you covered,” she gave Rosa’s hand another squeeze, “I still need something for Liz. And Michael. And ugh, I don’t know, should I get something for Isobel this year?”

Rosa laughed, but she had been making Isobel a few little thoughtful things every year since the Long party, first out of obligation and then for fun and love. "She is your great aunt. You could get her something for an old lady that's kinda cute. Like, oh, one of those plastic rain bonnets your mom has. Especially if she's going to Minnesota or somewhere it rains a lot. Missouri? One of those M-ones."

“Michigan. I don’t know if Michigan is known for being super rainy, actually. But everywhere’s super rainy compared to us, so that could work. You’re so much better at giving gifts than me.” She twisted the bracelet under the hem of the glove. “Maybe I should take this off and get a sneak peek so my gifts don’t all majorly suck.”

“Maria Amelia,” Rosa said, lengthening her middle name because ‘Amy’ just didn’t have enough syllables to convey her seriousness, “no. I’m not better at giving gifts, I can just handmake shit, which is a cheat. You’re just too practical with other people. _You_ like knicknacks, why do you think other people wouldn’t appreciate them? Not everything has to be useful. Look at me. I’m an artist, a drain on society.” 

Maria and Rosa talked politics a lot, but their similar anti-capitalist progressive views made two different women: Rosa just leaned into the stereotype of a hippie liberal communist leach, while Maria felt it necessary to learn to play the game of capitalism that she hated so much, with big plans to turn it on its head from the inside. 

Rosa waved a hand around at the beautiful lights and Christmas decorations, the painted shop windows, the luminarias and other Christmas lights, finishing sarcastically, “Since we definitely live in a society that doesn’t value beauty.” 

Maria blinked sudden tears out of her eyes and smiled at Rosa through them. “You’re ridiculous, Rosa Helena. Come on, show me the city. Maybe I’ll get inspired while you show me all the best places.”

“Good, and you can help me pick out a practical gift for Papi. He _does_ hate knicknacks, so…” Rosa said, linking their arms and escorting Maria to some of her favorite smaller shops, with cheaper or not-touristy stuff. She picked up a glazed Navajo-style pot from a shelf, too cheap to be actually handmade. “Maybe you could get Michael and Alex a wedding vase. Are they together enough that we can get them joint gifts yet?” 

“Considering your dad doesn’t know…” 

“Good point,” Rosa said, putting it back, imagining a day when she and Maria might have one of their own. 

“But if they’re going to live together at UNM, we might still get away with a joint gift. Maybe a toaster. You’re not allowed to have toasters in dorms, but Michael’s probably cute enough to get away with it.” Maria bent over a tray of little watches with hand-woven bands. “What does your dad need right now?”

"That's the thing, of course he won't say he needs anything, or want anything. What he needs is a vacation. Maybe… I dunno, he and Jim have been hanging out more. Maybe they've got a new hobby together. Playing guitar or smoking cigars or something old Mexican dudes do together. Should have asked Kyle." Rosa shrugged. "He always needs new work shoes. But that's a lame present. He's already getting a painting, though…." 

Rosa squeezed Maria closer, cuddling almost, as they hopped shops. 

“He drinks coffee, right? Maybe we could get him some mugs? Or one of those travel thermoses so he could have it while working and not worry about spills or things landing in it?” Maria suggested as they peered in at a shelf of mugs painted with pretty desert vistas.

“Oh, he might like that,” Rosa agreed, picking up one with a tiny, almost tasteful, little UFO on it. She giggled as she showed Maria. “You’d think he’d hate alien kitsch after twenty years in the diner or whatever. But he loves it. You know what he needs is one that’s microwave-safe but has a lid. He’s always letting coffee sit and get cold.” 

Together they searched until they found one, and at the same place Rosa bought Michael and Liz matching smaller mugs, and with the toughest presents out of the way, they turned to Maria’s list. “Your mom is easy to shop for, we could get her a dreamcatcher or tarot cards or something fun. Or a frilly shirt, I know a good place for those.” 

“Let’s go with the shirt. She’s got enough cards already. Ooh, or is there a rock shop around here? You know she loves a good crystal.” 

Michael liked cool rocks too, so that one might be a twofer. But clothing stores were Maria’s favorite, and she could probably convince Rosa into an impromptu fashion show.

“Oh, yeah! Yeah, let’s do the mineral store, I think they close early,” Rosa said, looking around to orient herself before dashing off. She giggled as movement in the lampposts caught her eye. “Uh-oh, look! It’s starting to snow!” 

“Oooh!”

Maria tipped her face straight up to watch the tiny flakes swirl against the dark gray sky, then turned her face back to Rosa, snow clinging to her eyelashes. Suddenly overcome with emotion, she said, “I’m so glad I had to come get you. I miss you.”

Rosa hugged her, squishing their faces together, a semblance of a kiss, something that came close to the kiss she actually wanted to give Maria. “I missed you, too, girl. I hope midterms went good because otherwise I’ll be pissed you ditched me to study and didn't even pass.” 

“Ugh, they were okay. Except calculus, but no one’s _good_ at calculus. Let’s just say I still have a B- in the class and leave it at that.” 

Rosa laughed appreciatively. "Oh my God, I know, Ms. Palmer, that was rough." 

“How about you? Any fun new stories from the glamorous world of gallery internship?”

Taking a chance, Rosa kissed Maria on the cheek. "Nothing new here. Just helping rich people pay way too much for paintings. I guess I'm learning a lot about the value of art, and about different types of it? Dr. Sandoval invited me to some lectures and workshops." She shrugged. "So, I dunno. It's cool but, like. Not as cool as being home with you."

“Aww, you don’t have to say that,” Maria said, deflecting. Then she hesitated and said, “But I’m glad you miss me too, even if that makes me sound like a huge bitch. Um, who were we shopping for next, again? Mom?”

"Your mom, yeah," Rosa laughed. "And I wouldn't like you if you weren't a little bit of a bitch."

When they left the next shop with a gauzy lacey rose top for Mimi (on sale, because these were Santa Fe prices), the snow was actually coming down hard. 

"Oof. Not looking forward to going down that hill out of town," Rosa said, nearly slipping herself on the sidewalk. 

Maria bit her lip and glanced at Rosa out of the corner of her eye. “Um...maybe we could stay the night here? Can we afford that if we split it?”

Only if they stopped shopping now, Rosa thought. Ortechos dealt in cash, so there was no fudging it.

Rosa grimaced. "Nahh, we can make it. I'll drive. Let's keep shopping."

“Yeah, okay, you’re probably right,” Maria relented, not wanting to spend money they didn’t have to any more than Rosa did...she just remembered the night in the motel when they came to the gala, and remembered sleepover nights when they both still fit in Maria’s tiny twin bed, and she...wanted. But Rosa was right.

By the time the shops were closed and they were back at the diner for food, the snow was really coming down. Sirens blared distantly all over the city to the tune of a lot of fender-benders. Rosa chewed on her lip. "Let me call my dad."

“We can still make it! Probably. Right?” Maria ventured, though she didn’t want Rosa behind the wheel any more than she wanted to drive herself.

As Rosa dug her phone out of her purse to call her dad, she discovered several missed calls already from the house. The Crashdown was closed, and she didn’t have a lot of minutes, so she got right to the point the moment her father picked up. 

“Hey, Papi, we’re just about to leave town…”

“You will do no such thing,” her father said, also speaking quickly. “It is snowing rats up north, mija, I just checked the news. You and Maria will stay the night, give them time to salt the roads. I already called Serafin at the Sands Motel—” he spoke like they were on good terms, like he checked up on her a lot, actually, which, ugh, but was about right, “and I have wired him the money for a room.” 

“ _Dad_ ,” Rosa growled, when she could get a word in edgewise. But she couldn’t argue with him and...more time with Maria, alone, wasn’t a bad thing. “Fine. Thanks, Papi. But when I turn twenty you’re not allowed to take care of me anymore.”

“No dice,” Arturo said. “Don’t waste your minutes. I love you.”

Rosa returned to the table looking sheepish. “Yeah, Dad’s already called ahead and booked us a room. You should call your mom.” 

Maria did, quickly reassuring Mimi that they were safe and would be staying the night. Hanging up, she told Rosa, “Mom’s going to repay your dad for my half of the room. Should we get going?”

The streets were far emptier now than they had been half an hour ago, and quickly getting emptier still. Something of the magic had definitely broken, and now they were just cold and wet, and it was dark, and Maria’s stomach clenched with a sudden spike of anxiety at the thought of spending the night with Rosa now. Plus she was still wearing Rosa’s gloves like an asshole.

Stripping the gloves off, she stopped to shove them in Rosa’s pockets and took her hands in her own to keep them both warm.

“Let’s go,” she repeated, not looking at Rosa’s face.

Rosa took the gloves back, but only to take Maria’s hands. She stopped her underneath the light from a lamppost, snow glittering around them even though most of the luminarias had been put out by the snow or gathered up by shopkeepers. “Hey. You okay, DeLuca?” 

“Oh! I’m fine, I am, I’m...just cold,” Maria said. “Come on, it’s a ways back to my truck. Do you have something I can wear to sleep in?”

Rosa gave her a playful grin, wagging her eyebrows and letting her imagine what Rosa had for her to sleep in until Maria laughed. "Come on, girl, I got you. We'll just dress like hobos rolling back into town."

The motel was walkable from the plaza, so they picked their stuff up from the truck, along with Maria's road trip snacks, her emergency make up kit, and surprisingly, most of an extra outfit because Maria was some kind of glam girl scout, always prepared. 

Still laughing, they stumbled into the motel. It was crowded, with a line at the counter. By the time they got up there, Serafin smiled wearily at Rosa. "Miss Ortecho, I am sorry. I had to put a family of five into your usual room, and that was the last of my two queens. I didn't know you'd have a friend, so I put you in a single queen."

Maria felt her face flame, but she still scrambled to say, “It’s fine, Mr. Serafin! Thank you so much!” And grabbed the key and tugged Rosa down the hall toward the rooms without giving her a chance to say anything at all.

Rosa laughed, probably an inappropriate response for the circumstances. Her brain had hiccuped, but she was back online now for the most part.

"Just like old times, huh?" she asked as Maria unlocked the door. They all but tumbled inside, their shopping weighing them down. The room was standard, one queen bed in the middle, with a desk and a TV. This room’s bathroom seemed more recently updated, so that was nice. “We’re getting a little big to snuggle on one bed, but we’ll manage.” 

“Oh, we can totally fit on a queen. We could probably fit Liz in between us, too, if we had to,” Maria said. She gathered all the shopping on the little table and started consolidating it into fewer bags so they could have a few free for their dirty clothes, just for something to do with her hands so she wasn’t just staring at Rosa, waiting for _something_ to happen.

“You should take off your panties,” Rosa said abruptly. She figured that would get a salacious reaction, so she continued quickly: “So I can wash them and they’ll dry. Nothing worse than crusty two-day-old underwear.” She added, to try to get Maria laughing, “And we’ll need clean underwear in case we get in a wreck slip’n sliding down La Bajada.” 

“Well I guess you _did_ buy me dinner,” Maria teased. She’d lost her ability to tell if she was being awkward or not. She also wasn’t sure if she should go into the tiny bathroom to change or just turn around to do it, like they’d done when they were kids. How would she feel if _Rosa_ changed in front of her? Oh god, she should probably do it in the bathroom.

Rosa threw a pair of sleeping shorts at her—boy’s boxers, with ninja turtles on them—at her. “You can wear these. They’re clean!” 

“Please tell me these aren’t Michael’s from like five years ago,” Maria groaned. “I don’t need to be wearing my ex-boyfriend’s underwear when I’m—” she cut herself off, scurrying to the bathroom.

Rosa was, luckily or perhaps on purpose, too busy laughing to notice Maria cutting herself off. 

“They are definitely not. We decided long ago that Michael is Michaelangelo, the sweet ninja turtle. Liz is Donatello, the smart one. And I’m Raphael, the angry one.” 

One-handed, Rosa caught Maria’s underwear as she tossed them to her, and put them in the sink with the other clothes she was washing. “Socks, too,” she said, swishing them around. 

Maria tossed her socks over one at a time, then padded out in the shorts and her bra.

“Who gets to be Leonardo? Your dad? Kyle? I don’t know enough about the ninja turtles to make the call.”

“Yeah, dad’s Leonardo. He’s the leader,” Rosa said, catching sight of Maria behind her in the mirror. She was letting her hair down and, whatever, bra, lingerie, Rosa could handle all that, but Maria’s miles of hair was entirely too much. She turned around, suddenly faced with the elephant in the room. She hadn’t shared a bed with Maria since she came out about her attraction to her. “Do you want me to sleep on the floor?” 

“No! No, Rosa, it’s cold, and the carpet is old, and...no, get in here.” She turned down the other side of the blanket and patted the sheets beside her. “There’s more than enough room for both of us. If—if you want we can put pillows between us, but, Rosa…” she swallowed. “It’s fine. Rosa.”

Rosa nodded, dumbly, unable to speak until Maria put her hair away, spinning it into a bun on top of her head. _Yeah. Fine._

She turned back to the laundry, wringing it out and hanging it over the towel racks. “Yeah, sorry. I know.”

“Don’t—you don’t have to _apologize,_ ” Maria said softly. She was messing this all up somehow. “Thank you for doing the laundry. Please come to bed.”

Rosa stayed by the sink, dawdling brushing her teeth and her hair, before grabbing the remote and jumping into bed. She didn't trust herself to look at Maria. "Do we want to watch anything? Maybe there'll be a scary movie."

“Really?” Maria teased, not looking at Rosa either. “That’s what you want to watch?” She chanced a glance out of the corner of her eye and went for it. “Well, okay, but only if you’re okay with holding me when I wake up in the middle of the night…”

Rosa glared at Maria like that was the dumbest thing she had ever heard, and waited until Maria realized how dumb that was before she giggled and said, rolling her eyes, "God, Maria, no. It's not like I've _ever_ held you when you got scared in the middle of the night."

She lifted up her arm and settled back, inviting Maria closer now. 

Maria shifted closer, put her arms around Rosa’s midsection in a hug. It was a few minutes before she spoke again.

“Um, Rosa...I know you _have_ always held me if we were together and I got scared at night. Especially back when the thing scaring me was the nightmares I had about you being hurt. And ever since we talked at Homecoming, I’ve...come to realize that I don’t ever want to lose you. Ever.”

Rosa huffed, trying to feel and seem nonchalant even though her heart thumped. "You're not gonna, chica. Not ever."

Maria sat up, so her face was closer to Rosa’s, close enough to smell her toothpaste, to see that she had an eyelash on her cheek. 

“I want to hold you, too. You deserve to be held,” she said.

"I, uhh…." Rosa stammered. _She_ was the one who did the holding and supporting. She had been the woman of her household since she was ten. "I mean, sounds good, but I don't need… I mean, you already do, Maria."

And then Rosa made the mistake of touching Maria's hair, and it came down from its loose bun all over her fingers, and her brain, merely hiccuping before, stalled out now. 

“But I want to do more,” Maria whispered, and leaned forward, eyes closed and heart thundering in her ears, to press her lips against Rosa’s.

Rosa was too stunned, too stupefied to react, to even kiss her back for a long moment—enough that Maria pulled back, her turn to look uncertain. 

"Shit, DeLuca," Rosa said, breaking into an honest to God cold sweat and a grin at the same time. Her eyes were huge as she asked, "What are we doing?"

“It’s okay,” Maria replied. She touched her own lips, then decided there were better things to do with her hands and reached out to brush her thumb against Rosa’s cheek. “Rosa, it’s okay. I didn’t know how I felt before, but I know now.”

Rosa laughed, weighing exactly three ounces because her heart was suddenly so achingly light it lifted her off the earth, higher than she’d ever felt. Grabbing the side of Maria's face, Rosa kissed her, and only realized she was crying—or they both were—when she pulled back. She giggled again, feeling absurd. "Hell, at this point I'd take you just experimenting on me."

“No! Rosa, I’m not. I promise. You don’t have to settle for anything. You have me.”

Still laughing, Rosa rolled over on top of Maria, tangling their legs together and kissing her with abandon. “Oh my God, were you going to wear lipstick to sleep? Or were you trying to seduce me from the beginning, you little minx?” 

Rosa smeared the lipstick across Maria’s chin, like a brat. 

Maria giggled and reared back to smack Rosa lightly with a pillow, then pounce on top of her to kiss her again, daring even to run her fingers through her thick, soft hair. 

“I don’t know if I thought I needed help to seduce you...but I thought it wouldn’t hurt,” she said.

“You’re right, I’m easy,” Rosa laughed, ceding the high ground to Maria for a little while, enjoying the kissing. Maria was everything good: she smelled good, she felt good, and Rosa had never felt like she could just...be herself around someone so completely as much as she did when she was around Maria. “Whatever you got me for Christmas, this is already better.” 

“Same,” Maria said, hugging her tightly. “I don’t think I even need Christmas. I could stay here, with you, forever.”

“Okay, _you_ need to get out of Roswell,” Rosa laughed, “if a crappy motel has you impressed. Hey, on the way home tomorrow we should stop at the mall. Get, uh…” 

Rosa sat up, pushing her hair behind her ear and licking her lips nervously. “I mean, if you wanted. Like those dumb professional portraits you get at JC Penny? With the blurry filter? Like we could give them to our parents?” 

“You think?” Maria asked softly. “I mean, I don’t have any fancy picture clothes or anything. I only have the clothes I was wearing yesterday...But I’d love to have pictures of you. With you. And I mean, Mom would love that too, you’ve seen our house, she has pictures of everyone everywhere—”

She was babbling, so she cut herself off.

"Well," Rosa said, kissing her nose. "We'll just have to buy some cute clothes _at_ the mall, too. Get our makeup done."

Squeezing Maria, Rosa playfully reached around her and unhooked her bra. "You wanna...jump in the shower? With me? Not to rush...anything. Just."

Maria bit her lip. “I didn’t think we’d be spending the night—I don’t have my hair stuff or a cap or anything…but, um, I’ll come into the bathroom with you. So we can keep talking? So we can stay close.”

"That’s right, I forgot,” Rosa said, but let Maria’s bra fall away from her chest. She didn’t try to stop it, and in spite of her worries, Rosa didn’t freak out and go all straight guy ogling her boobs. “I could promise not to get your hair wet? You gotta wash your face, we’re both covered in lipstick now.” 

She sat up and took her own shirt off. 

“You mean you’re gonna hold my hair back? What a role reversal,” Maria teased, booping Rosa on the nose and lunging off the bed and away, giggling, when Rosa tried to grab her hand in retaliation. She bounded into the bathroom to turn the water on, heart pounding and smile aching on her face, joy coursing through her veins.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It was important to us that the Christmas-themed chapter waited until after Thanksgiving 😅

It was Christmas Eve, and the Crashdown was open, but empty. The normally bustling restaurant twinkled merrily with lights and windows painted festively by Rosa, but most of today’s business was bulk to-go orders by the looks of it. Max held the door for Mrs. Samuels carrying the four dozen tamales and pint of space jam on her way out. She looked like she was struggling, so Max helped her to her car, steadying her at least once from the slush in the gutter. 

“Merry Christmas, Maxwell,” she said. 

“Merry Christmas!” he said, waving. And then, because it was freezing, he all but darted inside the restaurant, kicking his shoes on the mat in front of the door to not track any mud in.

Liz was sitting by the cash register, in about half her uniform, pouring over...maps. She glanced up at the wash of cold air, and broke out into a dazzling smile when she saw Max.

“Hey! Michael’s not home, and I’m on my lunchbreak, but...what’s up? Oh, I know, you’re here for our famous UFO Cocoa,” she teased, taking a huge sip out of her own mug and raising her eyebrows at him.

Max grinned, bashfully biting his lip. “Maybe I wanted to see you.” 

Liz raised her eyebrows and went back to her books. “You’re gonna see me tonight, Max. At the party.” 

“Yeah, well,” Max said, sitting at the bar closest to her. “Before tonight.” 

When she actually looked at him, like she was trying to figure him out, Max panicked and looked down. “What’s with all the maps?” 

“Oh, lots of planning to do. I’m not wasting a single second of my road trip. Two oceans and everything in between. Goodbye Roswell, hello, world...or something.” She shrugged like she was ready for Max to tell her it was stupid, or that she should stop and smell the flowers or whatever, and jotted a note down in the book beside her atlas.

Max reached across, touching her hand gently, tentatively. Even though he had just been outside, his hands were warmer than hers. 

“There’s a lot to see,” he agreed. “It’d be great for my, ah, for writing. To see the planet. If you thought you might want a—” 

_ Copilot _ , he was going to say, but lost his nerve. Instead, he thrust a small wrapped gift at her. “I got you a little something extra, and wanted to give it to you privately.” 

She took it, fingernail running under the tape, but she studied his face instead of the gift, head tilted. “You know, I’ve heard seeing new places  _ is  _ really good for writing. Is that what you’d do the whole time, just write? Or would you look up from your journal, too?”

Max blushed and sat back, laughing. “I told you, I’d be very distracted looking at  _ you  _ the whole time. What’s a Grand Canyon or Niagara Falls next to Elizabeth Ortecho?” He glanced down at the present. “Open it. It’s for...uh, your trip.” 

“Max Evans, my trip isn’t for months. But...thank you.” She tore back the paper, then lifted the lid on the box and pulled out the gift—some kind of pendant on a long chain? But when she opened the pendant, she was holding a little compass in the palm of her hand.

"I know you want to travel the world, and there's so much to see and so much you can do for the world," Max said, unable to look her in the eye. "I want you to have that so you can always find your way back home."

Liz’s mouth popped open, and she glanced down at the compass and back up at Max a few times, speechless, until her face softened into a disbelieving smile. “You are too much,” she said in a voice a little choked up, and she slid off her stool to wrap her arms around him, burying her face in his chest.

Max was surprised by the show of affection, wrapping his arms around her, too, trying to commit the moment to memory. "And you are amazing," he managed. "Of all the places in the whole planet we could have crashed into, I got to meet you."

“Max…” Impulsively, she blurted, “Why don’t you just come with me? I mean…” It all came out in a rush. “We’ve been dancing around this for so long, why don’t we just go for it? If Rosa and Maria and Michael and Alex can just take the leap, why not us? I don’t even know how I feel about you, not really, but I know how important you are to me, and I want you with me, I mean, I—”

Max blinked, his brain deflecting that which was too good to be true: "Wait, Rosa and Maria…?"

“Um, oops, don’t worry about it. Do you want to come with me or not?”

Max blinked, nearly starting to cry. "I would, uh—" a laugh bubbled out of him. "I mean, absolutely! You'll have to tell me when you don't want me around anymore, because I'll—I'd—follow you anywhere. I applied to Colorado, too, and..."

She poked him in the chest, but not too hard. “I’m telling you I  _ do  _ want you around, okay? Cut it out.” 

And she hugged him again, squeezing him tightly.

Max, already making a vow to himself to never tell Liz ‘No,’ said, “Okay,” and grinned from ear to ear. 

…

"I thought I had assimilated pretty well, Sheriff," Isobel said, though whether she was talking about being an alien on Earth or a white girl in New Mexico was anyone’s guess, "but until today I've never made biscochitos. And believe me, I've made practically every other kind of Christmas cookie, my mom's insane."

The fact that Isobel could talk to her about things like this that she couldn't talk to her own mother about filled Michelle Valenti with a rare wave of tenderness, and she patted Isobel’s shoulder while Isobel shook cinnamon sugar over the tops of the warm cookies. "Just don't go spreading this recipe around, it's abuela's secret family recipe."

Isobel drew a dramatic X over her heart and went back to making sure each cookie was evenly covered, tongue between her teeth like there was nothing she’d ever focused on harder. Kyle couldn’t help but grin at her, heart swelling in his chest, and then he ducked his head so his parents didn’t see the dumb look on his face.

His dad still saw, though, and clapped him on the back with a laugh. “I think you’ve got them the right size, son. No need to get out a protractor.”

“ _ Abuela _ is getting some of this batch, dad.” 

“Oh, right. I’ll get the protractor.” 

Michelle laughed. 

The cookie assembly line continued good-naturedly, and if Isobel felt she had to be on her best behavior, she quickly relaxed, and was very quickly goading Mr. Valenti for more embarrassing stories about Kyle as a baby. 

“I mean, nothing will beat the tampon nunchuks story,” Michelle admitted, face red with laughter. 

“No! Absolutely not!” Kyle almost wailed. “Isobel, come on!”

Isobel, mad with power, just cackled. “Please tell me there are pictures.”

“Oh, there are. But we should probably save them for when he least expects it,” Jim said with a wink. 

“Get them in the Yearbook. I know a guy,” Isobel said, tapping her nose. 

They bagged up the cookies according to family size, with the largest going to the Ortechos. This required folding and taping Christmas boxes and addressing cards, so a further assembly line was set up. 

“So...finals go okay?” Jim asked. 

“Applications in on time?” Michelle followed up. 

Isobel was a dab hand at ribbon-tying thanks to years of being pressed into service for her mom’s rich lady bake sales and gift exchanges, which meant she spent a lot of time waiting for Kyle’s much slower box-folding and had nothing to do with her hands to distract her. So she bit her nails instead, and said, “Finals went. And yes, applications are in. Now we wait! Fun.”

"That's good. Your parents come around about college for you and Max, Isobel?" Michelle asked, since Isobel had surprised them both by confiding in her about it, and she felt like this had become something of her responsibility. "You know if your father can't get you some interning at his firm, I can give the DA a call."

“Oh yeah, I convinced them. Max rode my coattails, as usual,” she said with a flip of her hair. “Thanks, Sheriff Valenti. I’ll let you know.”

Bolstered by that show of faith, Isobel reached under the table to squeeze Kyle’s knee, grateful that his family was so awesome and that he stopped being so un-awesome so she could experience it now.

“Hey, that’s great!” Jim said, patting her back boisterously, and not quiet with his praise or enthusiasm. “You guys will definitely get in. Top choices, both of you.” 

Kyle squeezed Isobel’s hand back, and, brazenly in front of his parents, kissed Isobel’s cheek. 

She grinned and ducked her head. But Isobel Evans wasn’t a girl going mushy over her first real boyfriend, especially not in front of his parents, so all she said was, “Okay, box boy, speed it up.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Kyle said.

“Oh, good. He’s learned manners,” Michelle said, smirking at her husband as if to tell him  _ He didn’t learn that from you _ .

Jim rolled his eyes fondly and leaned over to give her a kiss on the cheek.

…

Rosa and Maria crowded into the the bathroom doing each other’s make up and hair, and had so far not allowed Liz in, despite her banging on the door repeatedly. 

“Come  _ on _ , you guys,” she finally said. “You don’t even need make up and I still have to impress Max and make Isobel jealous, and if you need me to articulate why you two don’t need make up  _ at the top of my voice _ , I—”

“You rat us out, you’re dead,” Rosa said, opening the door. Liz marched inside, pulling the shower curtain closed and throwing her clothes over the top. 

“Anyone who wants to make Isobel jealous is welcome here,” Maria agreed. “I’ll do winged eyeliner on you if you want.” 

“Oh, yeah!” Liz said. “Please.” 

“Babe,” Rosa laughed. “She’s like, your cousin, aren’t you supposed to be nicer to her?”

“Oh, please, it’s Isobel.  _ Mean Girl _ is just how we communicate,” Maria scoffed. 

“Anyway, it’s my sister’s half-brother I’m trying to make my boyfriend’s sister jealous  _ about _ , and let’s just not start diagramming these family trees, okay?” Liz said, turning on the water in the shower. “Better for all of our sanity.”

“I should have gotten you a mirror for Christmas so I could lay claim to the bathroom for good,” Rosa groused. “You psychotic little narcissist.” 

“That’s not very Christmas spirity, Rosa! Halloween was over two months ago, you witch!” 

Rosa just rolled her eyes, laughing, dragging Maria out of the bathroom. “Let’s go help Papi set up.” 

“I’ll come find you for eyeliner!” Liz called. 

Maria had convinced Rosa to wear green this year so she could be the one stunning in red, and so they matched when they were fully dressed. Arturo beamed at them when they came down the stairs, holding his arms out for hugs.

“Such gorgeous girls. And so grown up,” he sighed, squeezing them tightly. “I remember when you were so little and Rosa wanted to be Frosty the Snowman at the party.”

“I still wanna be, dad,” Rosa said, incapable of being embarrassed by her father who wore alien antennae  _ by choice _ almost every day of the year. She wrapped an arm around Maria’s waist. “Unfortunately, the voice of reason here talked me out of it.” 

Arturo just beamed at them and patted them both on the cheek. “Okay, now, to decorations! You two finish the window displays, hm? Where are your siblings? The tree still isn’t finished!”

“I’m here!” Michael called as he clattered down the stairs, making his appearance fully dressed but with one of Rosa’s headbands holding back his wild hair. “Liz is hogging the bathroom.”

“I can get you a more festive headband,” Rosa offered, “or is that just temporary while you do your make up?”

Michael shot her a withering look. She was well aware of how much care he put into his hair. “Sure, if you put a bow on it, ‘cause I’m a friggin’ gift.”

“No more time. This buffet will not set itself!” Arturo said, putting even Maria to work. 

Michael hurried to finish setting up, definitely cheating with his powers, though Arturo fussed at him about the wide-open windows when he did. People started arriving not long after, though Michael didn’t light up until Alex arrived with Mimi, and then he went brighter than the Christmas tree. Rosa snickered at him.

Liz, though generally known for being the least dramatic Ortecho sibling, waited until Max arrived before she came downstairs, stunning him speechless in a form-fitting red dress that Rosa had to prevent their dad from making a fuss about.

The party was the DeLucas, the Valentis, and the Ortechos, mostly, though Ann Evans showed up with her kids, and the other servers and cooks from the Crashdown attended with their families until it was a large gathering. Every year the party grew bigger, but, Arturo said when Mimi or Rosa worried too much about the cost, the Crashdown was doing better, so he could afford it. Anyway, it was cheaper when you cooked yourself instead of catering, so he served up a proper New Mexican Christmas dinner, with posole, enchiladas, beans, tortillas, and red and green chile hot enough to keep them all warm. 

Rosa and Maria sat on the stairs, above it all, but watching, sitting close enough that they touched from knee to shoulder while they ate. 

“You’re sure you’re okay coming out to all these people, chica?” Rosa wondered, using her tortilla to sop up beans that were mostly red chile and cheese at this point. 

Maria’s stomach fluttered with nerves, but still she said in a firm voice, “I already know my mom and both our families and all our friends are on our side. The rest of this town...already scares me a lot of the time. It isn’t worth hiding for.”

Rosa set her food down and wiped her fingers on her own dress before sliding up one step to wrap her arms around Maria. “I got you, babe. I am the person in this town who owns and can open a butterfly knife. Anyone messes with you is gonna get shanked. I also know an alien, and the ex-Sheriff is my bio-dad. And my actual dad—” she added, to Maria’s giggles, “can wield a mean frying pan.” 

She grinned and kissed the top of Maria’s head. 

“Oh yeah, your two dads will show them,” Maria said. Below them, Arturo and Jim, both wearing Santa hats, were singing carols loudly, off-key, and half in Spanish, while Liz frantically tried to get past them to change the jukebox. Kyle was slumped so deep in his chair only the top of his head was visible, but Isobel sat straight up and laughed—whether at the show or just at Kyle, it was impossible to tell. Michael, adorned in a ribbon headband of Rosa’s devising, manned the buffet, making his dad proud by ensuring no one could conceivably go hungry.

"It's a shame these lovers are going off to college, I'm gonna miss 'em," Rosa sighed, "but then we'll get spoiled in the meantime. Wanna take bets on how often Liz and Michael come home on the weekends? Albuquerque isn't that far, I bet Michael will come home just to work holiday shifts. And Liz will be back every three-day weekend, with her useless wonderbread boy toy in tow."

“Isn’t Liz going to UC Boulder?” Maria asked, toying with a string on her hem. “I was kind of worried we wouldn’t see her at all, actually. And I don’t even know where Max is going or if he even has plans past the summer.”

"Oh my God, you haven't heard? She's taking him with her on that road trip," Rosa scoffed. "Boulder's still like an eight hour drive, so, I mean, she's gonna come home, with bags of laundry, but not like, every weekend."

Rosa stole a cookie off Maria's plate. "I'm glad we're not doing that."

“Ha! What are the odds they elope while they’re gone and never return because your dad might  _ actually  _ kill them?” Maria watched her cookie go and then leaned over to kiss a crumb off Rosa’s cheek. “Yeah, the trip between Santa Fe and here isn’t too terrible. We’ll make it work.”

"Oh, I mean, when the internship's over," Rosa said. "If I wanted to sell art I could do a gala a month or rent some space. You know some rich white lady from Taos gave me three grand for two paintings? That's enough to rent space for a few months, and I can still help my dad here. I don't need to  _ be  _ there. And I don't want to be there. It's too expensive and has a distinct lack of Maria DeLucas."

“Wait, really? Rosa!” Maria squealed, throwing her arms around Rosa and squeezing her into the tightest hug, burying her face in her neck and inhaling the smell of her cinnamon-y, Christmas-y lotion. 

“What do you mean ‘really,’ girl?” Rosa laughed, pulling Maria practically into her lap, and, since no one was around, kissing her cheek. “You insulting me about wanting to stay here with you, or that a real person actually paid me a real $3,000 cash money—” 

“About  _ staying,  _ obviously! I—” Ridiculously, tears filled her eyes. “I was making all these plans about how I could make the most money fastest, and what I’d do with my inheritance from Grandma when I turn 18, and all these things I could do to get where you are, and how I’d stay connected to Mom or convince her to come with me and all of it, but you really want to stay? I thought you hated this town!”

"I mean, I kinda do," Rosa laughed. "Especially now all our friends are leaving. But, like, it's home, and you're here. Now if you wanted to run away to California, I wouldn't complain…"

“Maybe someday. At least for a little while.” Maria rested her head on Rosa’s shoulder and snuggled in. “All of Liz’s ‘two oceans’ talk has rubbed off on me. I want to go to the beach.”

Rosa squeezed her tightly. “I’ll get you to the beach, chica. Someday.”

“Alright, everyone, gather around for presents!” Arturo called from downstairs. Rosa and Maria checked each other’s make up and padded down. 

Arturo passed out the gifts, beaming from ear to ear as he did. He was always a cheerful man, but his demeanor was so light, so elated that the Ortecho siblings all glanced between themselves with smiles on their faces but eyebrows raised. Had they missed something? Did he win the lottery or something?

The families passed around group presents, mainly: space jam from the Ortechos, homemade ornaments from the DeLucas, the biscochitos from the Valentis, and expensive bath products from the Evanses. The kids exchanged a few gifts between each other though mostly they had already given each other presents (Liz had gone to the gas station and bought a U.S. Highway map for Max that afternoon just before it closed, and he looked like he was about to cry when he opened it). Arturo gave each of his employees huge Christmas baskets with full-on honey-smoked hams in them as well as lots of other goodies and gift cards. Rosa had helped him put them together that morning and he insisted that the business was doing better so he could afford to give everyone bigger and bigger presents every year. 

“Okay, uh, here’s one from me and Maria,” Rosa said, passing out generic envelopes and greeting cards. “Ah, you should open them all at the same time. It’s sort of an announcement.” 

Inside were the pictures they took in the mall, in little cardboard frames, one of Rosa with her arms wrapped around in classic boyfriend pose, and the next with Maria kissing her cheek. In the third and largest picture, they both had lipstick prints on their cheeks. 

Everyone opened them together, but Arturo was still the first to react, beaming at the girls and coming forward to give them yet another enormous hug. Mimi was next, then Liz, then Michael and Alex, then everyone was shaking their hands or giving their congratulations and well-wishes, with varying degrees of enthusiasm. The whole time, Maria couldn’t stop smiling at Rosa, her heart so full of love it felt like it might explode. 

“Yeah, so. We’re dating,” Rosa said, almost mulishly, in case anyone missed that giant memo in the form of blurry-edged mall-quality professional photographs. 

“I’m so proud of both of you,” Mimi said. “I love the photos. I’m going to hang it right over the mantel—”

“Mom!” Maria protested.

Michelle Valenti, who hadn’t really talked to Rosa in several years, smiled at her. “Anyone gives you girls trouble, you come to me, alright?”

“Before or after I give ‘em the old aggravated assault?” Rosa wondered sweetly. 

Michelle wagged her finger, but her cheeks were flushed from Arturo’s eggnog and it was her Night Off, damn it, and she couldn’t find it in her to be anything but proud of Rosa, even if her existence reminded her that her husband was a dumbass. She actually laughed, and then covered her mouth. “I’m not condoning that. Whatsoever.” 

“There you go, you see? Now they’ve stolen our thunder,” Alex whispered, mostly joking, as he nudged Michael with his elbow, teasing. 

Michael hooked his pinkie around Alex’s, confident no one’s attention was on them right now, and said, “Who needs thunder?” 

Rosa and Maria accepted all the congratulations they got, and Michael imagined all the things they must be feeling—joy, relief, defensive disbelief, excitement—and he moved even closer to Alex.

“Thank you. For waiting until I’m ready,” Michael murmured, wishing he could rest his head on Alex’s shoulder, but…

“Don’t thank me for basic decency,” Alex said, giving his shoulder a companionate squeeze, but dropping his hand—not guiltily, exactly, but politely, as Arturo handed Alex and Michael each an envelope.

“Wait to open them all at once,” Arturo instructed, obviously vibrating. 

Alex chuckled as soon as he passed. “He been hitting his own eggnog a little hard?” 

“Maybe. He’s been acting weird all night. Really feeling the holiday spirit, I guess? Or maybe he was just nervous about how people would react to Rosa and Maria, I don’t know.” He worried the edge of the envelope with his thumbnail, waiting to be told when to go.

Alex looked around the group closely. The Valentis seemed to know what this was by their knowing smiles, but that was not much of a clue. 

“Alright!” Arturo said, clearing his throat. “This is not really a gift so much as an announcement. Not like my daughters’! I’m sorry, you get no pictures of me. I do not think you want this.” He smiled, and a few people laughed. “It is a cause for celebrations, so if you want to get another drink now is the time!”

“Papi,” Liz said, shaking the envelope desperately. “What is it?” 

“Don’t get too excited,” he told her, teasing, because now everyone was excited. “I want to thank Sheriff Valenti and also Dave Evans, who couldn’t be here, but he helped with this—”

“Dad, I’m opening it!” Rosa announced loudly, tearing into the envelope and then stopping dead. It was just a half-slip of paper, really, printed out on the office printer that they typed up Specials on for menu inserts. Rosa knew what it was the moment she saw the dumb clip art of an American flag at the top. 

There was a beat of total silence, then the Crashdown erupted with noise, a dozen or more people surging forward to clap Arturo on his back and congratulate him. Everyone talked all at once; Liz immediately burst into tears, and Michael swept her up into a hug, not far behind, tears streaming down his face too in no time flat. He opened up an arm for Rosa, too, the three of them flattened under such an immense wave of joy and relief. Their father was an American citizen: his citizenship ceremony was scheduled for January. 

Jim Valenti hung back, arms folded, a satisfied—bordering on smug—smile on his face. Michelle nudged him with her elbow and he turned the look on her, but sheepish.

“It’s just what he deserves,” Jim said.

“You probably still owe him at least one,” Michelle agreed. 

“Well, I’m about to do that, too,” Jim winked at her, taking up a large flat present from under the tree. 

Arturo was trying to comfort his crying youngests while also fielding congratulations from all sides. Rosa, luckily, was helping, holding onto Michael so he could hold Liz. Both were sobbing with happiness—of course, they had been the ones who had been frightened by the ICE agents the most. This must be a huge relief for them.

“Maybe I should not have kept it a surprise?” he asked, patting Michael’s back and squeezing Liz.

Michael furiously wiped his eyes and blew his nose on a tissue Rosa handed him. 

“Papi, you, you,” Liz was still too overcome to really talk. The crowd of well-wishers receded a bit to give the family more space. Arturo held his youngest daughter tightly, rocking her back and forth.

"Yes, yes, it's alright, see? Now you don't have to worry about me anymore when you go off to college," he told them, as they shifted into a group hug. Finally, Rosa peeled Liz and Michael away so Arturo could move around the room getting congratulated. 

The girls’ makeup was ruined, but they didn’t care. The three of them shuffled off to a booth to recover and be together, and Maria, Max, and Alex came with them, just to be close. The party was starting to wind down as the night went on, people getting tipsy and mellow with the eggnog and tired out from all the food and people.

“Has everyone given gifts out?” Michael asked, looking around.

"Were your ears burning, hijo?" Jim Valenti asked, approaching the table with Arturo and one large, flat present, like a book or a ream of printer paper. He smiled around at the table. "Rosa, Liz, Michael, can we talk to you for a minute, privately?"

All the kids crowded around the table exchanged worried glances, but everyone shuffled to let the three Ortecho kids out. Michael’s heart pounded the hardest in his chest, so hard he was half afraid everyone could hear it.

Was this something to do with him? Was—did Liz and Rosa’s mom have something to say about him joining their family, was something happening, was something wrong? Maybe Dad wanted to move or something? No, no way, the diner was his dream. 

Liz, ever empathetic, rubbed Michael’s back as they headed to the kitchen, and Michael gave her a wan smile back. He was still wearing the ribbon headband Rosa had actually given him, but in his nerves he swept it off his head and worried it in his hands.

“What’s up, dad?” Rosa asked once the doors fell shut behind them.

“Well, it has to do with my citizenship, something I could not do without it,” Arturo explained, while Jim held the shiny wrapped package. Then, with great ceremony, he turned and took the gift from Jim, and handed it off to Michael. “This gift is for you, Miguel. But you are the true gift to this family.” 

“I...what?” Michael’s fingers froze on the wrapping paper. A whisper in the back of his head said what it  _ could  _ be—the thing they had to wait for citizenship for—but no, he wouldn’t let his hopes soar too high just in case—maybe it was something like a nice picture of the Crashdown to take with him to college so he would have a piece of home—

He ripped the paper all at once.

Of course it was boring in practice, a manila folder and a stack of forms. 

"It's all filled out, Michael. We just need your signature," Jim stepped in to say. "And you'll be adopted, formally, on the books."

"I already think of you as my son," Arturo was quick to add. "This is just to make it official." 

A tear rolled down Michael’s face and dripped off the end of his nose.

It had been a long time since he doubted, really, his place in the Ortecho family. They were so welcoming, so warm, so amazing from the start that even a child with his pain could only hide for so long behind thorns and barbs. But he never expected, he never really thought...

“I can never repay you,” Michael said, voice cracking in half. He looked wildly around the room, more tears welling up and spilling over. His shoulders shook. “Any of you.”

“Michael…” Liz said softly.

"Oh my God, are you crying on official documents? I don't think they take 'em if you get tears on them, Michael," Rosa said, trying to make him laugh. Both girls curled around him. 

"You don't have to repay family," Arturo said. "But if you did, you already have, mijo."

Michael shook his head, but he still took a step forward, and Liz and Rosa let him go so he could wrap his arms around their father. Michael had gotten so tall that he stood head and shoulders above Arturo, but Arturo’s hugs could still make him feel like a terrified ten year old again, finally given someone, somewhere he could trust and be safe with.

“Thank you,” he sobbed. “ _ Gracias, papi.  _ Thank you.”

"Ai, my boy. Thank  _ you _ ," Arturo said, hugging him back. Liz and Rosa added to the hug pile just as Michael let out an actual sob, and they held him until he cried himself out entirely. 

"Uh, you really don't want to crush those documents, too much, Michael, that's got, like, some important…" Jim suggested awkwardly, and, laughing, they pulled apart, wiping their eyes. 

“I’m grateful,” Liz said, punching her dad lightly in the arm, “that  _ someone  _ put a time clock on this guy doing the citizenship application. Papi, I’ve been on you about that since middle school!” 

“Well, had to happen before Michael turned 18, so Arturito still cut it  _ pretty  _ close to the wire,” Jim pointed out, taking the documents gently from Michael’s fingers and setting them on the prep table. He pulled a pen from his blazer and pointed to all the places where Michael needed to sign, and Michael did, though his hands shook a little, smudging his initials in places.

“Is that it?” He glanced up at Jim with eyes that had only softened in seven years. “Is there a court date, do we have to get, um, Helena’s signature, do we...i-is that it? When do we know for sure?”

Jim scratched the back of his neck nervously, face coloring at the mention of Helena. “Look, we took—Michelle took care of Helena. Don’t worry about it. We do have a date before a judge, but it’s a formality. You have the district head of CPS representing your case.” 

Arturo shook his head, putting a hand on each of the girls’ shoulders. “Your mother and I separated, really, a long time ago. This time we made it legal.” 

“Good riddance,” Rosa said loudly, proudly, though Liz looked more considered about this news. 

“No, it’s right. I know it is. She didn’t even come to see me at Science Fair Regionals in Albuquerque…” Liz looked around at her family: she hadn’t told them she had invited Helena. But she shrugged and wrapped an arm around Michael. “I think trading her for Michael is a better deal.” 

Michael squeezed her back, and when they separated he rubbed at his eyes and let out a watery laugh. “Um...maybe I should, uh, freshen up before going back out to the party. So they don’t think you brought me back here to tell me I’m dying or something.”

Rosa peered out of the kitchen window. “It seems like a lot of people left already. The ones left probably want to know and don’t care that you look all weepy.”

“You should go give Alex and Max and Isobel a hug at least,” Liz added.

"Sign these, and you can tell 'em it's a done deal," Jim said, talking Michael through the forms and getting his signature and initials in a few more places. 

"There we go," Jim said afterwards. "See you in court February 1st. We'll get you a new jacket, if you want. That's part of my Christmas present to you," he said when Arturo looked ready to protest. "I'm buying  _ both _ of you new suit coats. Ain't you done growing yet, Michael?"

“No, sir,” Michael said mournfully, tugging at the pants he was wearing that were already going to have to be let out at the ankles.

"I'm not sure I'm done growing around the middle," Arturo said. Jim laughed.

Back out in the diner, Alex perked up immediately when the kitchen doors opened, his face going focused and intense when he saw that Michael had been crying, and he vibrated intensely like he wanted nothing more than to leap up, run to him, and whisk him away to somewhere private. But if he did that, people would ask questions, so he had to stay still and  _ wait  _ until Michael slid back into the booth beside him, squeezed his knee, and whispered  _ it’s okay.  _

"So what's the big secret?" Isobel asked, suspiciously like she already knew what the answer was, especially at how Kyle squeezed her hand in warning. Well, it made sense that the kids of the families who made it happen had sussed it out. 

"I dunno, Al, how would you feel about changing your name to Ortecho?" Rosa asked, plopping down next to Maria. 

“What does that have to do with anything? Michael’s name has been Ortecho for as long as I’ve known him, I’ve had plenty of time to— _ oh.  _ Oh! Michael!” Alex gripped his arm tightly, smile splitting his face. Michael nodded, and Alex threw his arms around him, tucked Michael’s face into his neck to hold him better, could have purred when Michael relaxed into his embrace and let out a sigh.

“Congrats, man!” Max said, hugging Isobel just because it felt like the right thing to do.

"Michael!" Maria squealed, and made Michael get out of the booth so she could hug him properly (when he was done being hugged by Alex). "That's amazing! I'm so happy for you!" 

She knew enough about Michael to know that this was definitely his dream come true, and she felt as though a huge weight had been lifted off his aura. She was positive his real mother would understand. So she ran her fingers through his hair and hugged him again.

Yeah, he was doing okay. 

And Maria was, too, as Rosa grabbed her and hugged her from behind, kissing her neck a little possessively. It was a good thing she was cute when she did that: if a boyfriend did that to her she'd have punched him in the nuts, but Rosa was different. 

Michael got hugs from everyone around—even Kyle gave him a manly thump on the back and a “Congrats.” 

It was getting pretty close to midnight and the official start of Christmas Day, so more people trickled out, back to their own beds. 

“Well, we want to stop by home before midnight mass,” Michelle said, collecting her son and the gift baskets.

“We’ll see you there. Merry Christmas,” Arturo told her. Jim and Arturo shook hands, and the sense was that any ounce of resentment or ill feeling that might have lingered between them was long gone now. 

Arturo turned to his kids—all three of them. “Alright, who is coming with me to church?” 

“I am,” Rosa said, and Maria, who had been planning this, took Rosa’s hand sweetly and chastely. 

“May I come, too, Mr. Ortecho?” 

“And how are you getting home, young lady?” Mimi asked, possibly in on the scheme, or possibly just legitimately tired.

“Oh, I don’t know....” Maria said, all innocence, but Rosa was less interested in subterfuge.

“She’s coming back home with us and staying the night, right, Dad?” 

Arturo put his hands on his hips. “And where will she be sleeping, hm?”

Rosa rolled her eyes. “Please, Papi, we’re not going to get up to anything with Liz in the room, it’ll be fine!”

“Maybe we could all sleep in the sitting room together?” Alex jumped in. “If that’s okay, Mr. Ortecho. We’ll make sure to be out of the way early enough in the morning…”

"You want to come to church, too?" Arturo asked Alex. Certainly Mimi had faith, even if it was not like his own, so he wasn't overly concerned about Maria, but it always seemed to him that Alex listened to a lot of angry music, and with his upbringing with that horrible man and that evangelical "church" he had claimed to be a part of, Arturo worried a lot about Alex's spiritual health. So he agreed quite readily, if not wisely. "Alright, yes, of course. We have plenty of sleeping bags."

"Can I come, too, Mr. Ortecho?" Max asked.

Arturo gave him a fake-stern look that turned immediately into a fond shaking of his head. “It is a good thing we don’t have to drive to the church! All of you are not as small as you used to be. But yes, everyone is welcome on Christmas.”

So all of them bundled into their coats then piled out into the night. Maria and Rosa walked arm in arm. Max wasn’t bold enough to take Liz’s arm, but she walked beside him anyway so their arms brushed occasionally, just to see a blush light up his face that wasn’t from the cold. Michael and Alex walked side by side too, and it was dark enough that no one noticed if he linked their pinkies together while they walked.


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw this chapter for getting caught/being outed (everything ends up ok though)

“Hola, Alejandro,” Arturo said, when Alex pushed through the Closed sign on the Crashdown. 

“Hi, Mr. Ortecho!” Alex replied, chuckling a little at the nickname. 

“Michael and the girls are upstairs.”

“Thanks!” Alex hung his coat up by the door and headed up the stairs, hobbling a little on his bad leg from the cold, though it was much warmer upstairs above the Crashdown kitchen. He passed by the sitting room to find Liz and Rosa curled up watching _Supernatural_ on DVD. “Michael in his room?” 

Rosa and Liz glanced at each other with nearly identical smirks. 

“Yep,” Liz said, popping the ‘p.’

“Have fun in the closet!” Rosa crowed.

Alex flipped them both off as they giggled. He knocked lightly on Michael’s door, and Michael called back just as softly, inviting him in.

He was lying back on his bed, feet dangling off the end, a book in his hands that he set aside the second Alex opened the door.

“Hey.”

“Hey,” Alex said, shutting the door behind him, making the room immediately very intimate. It was sweet and functional and cozy, but it was basically just a bed and shelves. He dropped to a knee on the edge, because there definitely wasn’t room for a chair. It struck Alex that berths on a spaceship were probably around this size, and maybe part of Michael was used to it. “I have some good news....” 

“Oh yeah?” 

Michael sat up and shifted over so Alex could sit, patting the bed beside him. His eyes glimmered sweetly in the lamplight, his cheek dimpled by his smile. He kissed Alex when he sat, cupping his cheek, before he let him speak.

“Great news,” Alex said. “Well, pretty good news.” 

He pulled a letter out of his backpack with turquoise UNM insignia on it. “I’m in. Still no word on scholarships, yet, but if I have to take out a loan for—”

Michael tackled him down onto the bed, knocking the letter to the floor as he kissed him soundly, cupping the back of his head so he didn’t hit it as he went down.

“Congrats,” he breathed when they separated, then dove in again.

“I mean, what, I needed a 2.5 GPA and—” Alex tried, voice muffled as Michael kissed him again and again. He laughed, hands sliding up the back of Michael’s neck, touching his curls. “Getting in is the easy part. It’s not having to take out tens of thousands in loans to—” 

But then Michael kissed him again, and Alex forgot about the money issue. He slid his other hand into Michael’s back pocket, squeezing his ass. “I’ll just sleep secretly in your dorm and you bring me table scraps from your meal plan so I save on room and board.” 

Michael kissed down his chest, fingers creeping up the hem of his shirt. “Never,” he purred. “Dorms have kitchens, right? I’m gonna cook for you every night. Those dorm kitchens have never seen anything like an Ortecho family recipe, they won’t know what hit them.”

"Oh my God, Michael, no!" Alex giggled, wrestling with Michael, though there wasn't a lot of room on the tiny bed. And then it hit him: he was going away to college. He was losing the safety net he had come to rely on in Roswell and throwing his lot in 100% with Michael Ortecho. He smiled at Michael brilliantly. "I can't believe we're going to college together!"

“Less than a year away. Move-in is in August, right? I bet we can get a dorm room together—you apply for that in the spring, I think? I’ll have to check again.” 

He rolled them so they were on their sides together, and he reached past Alex to his nightstand, where the red flower still sat in its cup of water, plucked it out, and tucked it behind Alex’s ear. 

“I can’t wait,” he whispered.

Alex chuckled, taking Michael’s hand and kissing his fingertips. “Me, neither. Can’t wait to watch you be brilliant and save the world. Can’t wait to say, ‘Sorry, ladies, that Nobel Prize Winner Dr. Ortecho is _my_ partner.’”

“Oh yeah? I can’t believe you’re leaving me for Liz,” Michael teased.

The two of them together barely fit on the bed, but that was okay. Maybe this would be what dorm beds were like, Michael thought, a thrill going through him right down to his toes.

"Funny," Alex said, tugging on Michael's hair—not so much as a punishment as he knew he liked it—and kissing him again to shut him up. “I won’t hear until later about any scholarships. We’re not in a rush to figure out dorm arrangements. How was work?” 

“It was pretty good. Busy. Lots of people out of school and parents sick of cooking after the holidays,” Michael said. “How about you? Tourists pouring in to see their incoming overlords for the New Year?”

"Busy enough," Alex shrugged, wriggling against Michael, rolling on top of him so he wouldn't fall off the bed. "The only alien I care about is here."

They were still giggling and touching and kissing when the door opened. Thinking it was Rosa or Liz, there was no immediate need to extricate, though when a male voice said "Miguel!" Alex launched himself off of the bed so fast he fell off and into the narrow space between the wall and the bed with a curse. 

“Fuck!” Michael yelped, head whipping around to check on Alex, then right back to his father, too frozen with shock even to burst into tears. Still, his voice cracked when he said, “Dad, I...”

Arturo’s face showed he was just as shocked as Michael, so shocked he was speechless for a long moment. Too long, as Michael moved slowly to stand between his father and the bed where Alex was.

"Mr. Ortecho," Alex began, in his most reasonable tone. He didn't lock up in front of father figures anymore, but it was a near thing. He scrambled up from the floor. "We were just rough housing, sir, nothing—"

"You don't need to lie to me, boys," Arturo said sadly. 

“I love him,” Michael said, defiantly, and then the tears came, streaming silently down his face.

And Arturo just wilted, face going soft and concerned, and he spread his arms wide. “Oh, Miguel.”

“Michael,” Alex began, but didn’t know what to say. Alex had seen Arturo angry before, angry because Liz or Rosa had boys in their rooms, but this wasn’t like that at all. 

“Michael. Please. Come here and give me a hug, mijo.”

But Michael couldn’t move, so Arturo came to him, wrapping his arms around his frozen body.

“It is alright. I was only a little surprised, yes? You’re okay. We’re okay. You know I love your sister only more every day, yes? It’s the same for you. Alex?”

Alex blurted out, “I only have honorable intentions toward your son, sir, I swear, I’m sorry we didn’t tell you…”

Arturo opened his arm. “You better come here, too, mijo.” 

Alex almost didn’t know what he was asking before Michael turned and opened his arms, too. _Arturo wanted a hug_. 

They pulled him in, and Alex was folded into the embrace. Arturo held them both, squeezing them tightly.

“Boys, boys,” Arturo said. “You never have to be afraid of me. Not even when you are breaking rules and having the door closed with boys over!” He thumped Michael lightly on the back of the head, and Michael let out a weak, watery laugh.

“I know, Papi, sorry.”

“I am angry only that you did not tell me the truth to try to get around my rules,” Arturo said sternly, but softly, definitely the ‘I’m not mad, just disappointed’ tone. He took his arm from around Alex to give Michael’s shoulders a shake. “When you are living under my roof you obey my rules. And you do not keep secrets from your Papi.” 

Michael wiped at his eyes. “I, I wasn’t trying to keep secrets, I just didn’t want to disappoint you, and I know having guys over is against the rules, I’m sorry…”

“Shh. It’s okay. Don’t do it again, but...nothing is going to happen to you, mijo. Except maybe being grounded.”

“I’m sorry, sir,” Alex mumbled. “I can go home now.” 

“I don’t think you have to do that. Come on downstairs, I have dinner ready. And maybe we can try to do this over, the right way, hm?” 

With that, he left, calling to the girls that dinner was ready. He left the door pointedly open. 

Michael collapsed to the bed and put his head in his hands for a second, until he reached out with one of them to clutch Alex’s shirt and pull him closer and rest his forehead against his hip. Michael was shaking slightly, but composed himself.

“We’re okay. We’re okay,” he said, just as shakily.

“Yeah, of course,” Alex said, hugging Michael tightly. “Uh, not the best coming out you coulda had, but that wasn’t…”

Arturo hadn’t even raised his voice, so Alex was calling that a win for father figures. Alex sighed and rubbed Michael’s back, pulling him against his stomach and just holding him for a moment. “We should get downstairs. Pretty sure your dad’s got like, six saints on my ass now making sure I’m not alone in your room with you.”

Alex pulled away, but waited at the door. Michael still looked ill. Gently, Alex prompted, “Michael, were you...expecting him to be really mad?”

Michael shook his head. “No! I wasn’t _expecting_ anything, just, you hear stuff, and you know how religious he is, and I just…” he swallowed. “I didn’t want him to regret...me. I didn’t think he would, but…I don’t know. I wish I’d just told him. But I was scared.”

“I get it. It’s scary. But I don’t ever want you to be scared when I’m around.” Alex sat down next to him on the bed, then got nervous about that, and stood up, pulling Michael up with him. “We can tell him now. Let you say it on your own terms, maybe?” 

Michael wrapped his arms around Alex in a hug and nodding into his chest, sinking into his arms and letting Alex bear most of his weight just for a moment, then they both headed downstairs to the kitchen.

Everyone was already at the table. Rosa and Liz both looked worried, but relaxed a little when the boys entered holding hands.

“Um, hi, everyone,” Michael said, squeezing Alex’s hand for support.

“Salutations, brother,” Rosa said, obviously making fun of how stilted he sounded. 

“Sit down, boys,” Arturo said, ignoring her. “Hope you like spaghetti, Alejandro. Rosa, eat some vegetables.” 

Alex squeezed Michael’s hand, following his lead. 

“So, um,” Michael said as the dishes were passed their way, “Um, some of you already know, but I wanted to say it for real.” He took a deep breath. “I’m bisexual. Too. And Alex and I are together. Dating. I...just wanted to, um, say it officially.”

Rosa and Liz gave Michael a golf clap, and Alex rolled his eyes, but it broke the tension. 

Arturo stood up and went around the table to pull Michael into a hug. 

“ _That_ ’s spoken like an Ortecho,” he told him softly, proudly. “Maybe I make churro pancakes tomorrow? Alex can stay over—in the den.” He smiled and stuck out a hand for Alex to shake.

Alex took the handshake. “Yes, sir.”

For the rest of dinner, Michael couldn’t stop smiling. Every time he met the eyes of anyone around the table he smiled wider, and the entire time, he and Alex held hands under the table. When it was time for bed, Michael couldn’t help but imagine the two of them cramming onto the couch like they did onto his narrow bed, but they didn’t push it. Instead, Michael slept with his door open, so the two of them had an unbroken line of sight to each other, all through the night.


	22. Chapter 22

Isobel rapped her knuckles noisily against the glass at the UFO Emporium ticket window, making Alex jump and bang his knee on the bottom of his desk. Wincing, cursing, and rubbing his knee, he glared up at her from under his cute little visor, but that didn’t puncture her sunny disposition.

“Is my brother in there with you?” she called through the glass.

“Oh my God, what?” Alex asked, aggravated. He was holding an official-looking piece of paper and an envelope, but he shoved these aside. “No! I’m working, Isobel. I haven’t heard from him today.” 

This wasn’t strictly true, but no one, especially not Isobel Evans, needed to know what their sappy text message chain looked like. He definitely didn’t know anything about Michael’s whereabouts. 

“Oh please, like you’ve never hidden him under the desk before,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Whatever, you're basically family, you’ll do. Hold on a sec, I’ll be right there!”

"I'll _do..._?" 

'Basically family' was a stretch, unless he and Michael ever got married, or, he supposed, if Rosa and Maria got married (sister in law two ways, gross) (or, hell, did she mean through _her_ relation to Maria? His friend circle was getting way too incestuous).

When she said ‘a sec’ she meant it, because while Alex was busy mapping family trees in his head, he only got halfway through a crabby ‘This is employees only!’ before she was bullying her way through the door that said just that and waving a piece of paper in front of his face.

“Look! I heard back from the scholarship people! I’m a ‘promising young woman with a future in law’ now officially!”

Alex had reason to share in her celebration, so he was actually polite about this news. "Hey, great! Maria was saying you’ve got some kind of deal with your parents…?"

“Yeah, getting the scholarships was part of my pitch for proving I wanted this enough for them.” She tried to play it off cool, but couldn’t stop beaming.

"Nice," Alex told her, chuckling. "I've made a little score myself, recently. They must send out all the letters around the same time…"

Alex showed her the piece of paper for a sizeable scholarship from the University of New Mexico for minorities in computer sciences. Unlike Isobel's, his scholarship was for four years of funding. "Between this, the Lottery scholarship, and a Pell Grant, I won't have to secretly room with your brother and subsist off his meal plan."

“Please tell me you haven’t told him about that plan. He goes apeshit when people ask him to take care of them; you should have seen him when he babysat me when I had the flu.” She rolls her eyes fondly. “My soul did _not_ need that much chicken soup. And you’re you—he’d be even worse. He’d steal ingredients from the dining hall for you and turn them into five star meals and never do a single second of homework.”

"Oh, I know," Alex chuckled. "Luckily, plants and machines may have a slight edge even over me for him, so once he gets to do what he really wants I think he'll…" 

Alex trailed off with a sigh and a shake of his head, imagining Michael neck-deep in homework for some lab or another, and Alex in his dorm room playing guitar or doing his own homework, and it was—yeah. Nice. The way it should be. "I think we're gonna be okay. We—all of us."

Isobel’s smile slipped into something softer and more genuine, and she said, “You know what, Manes, I think we will.”

“Okay, but seriously, you can’t be in here,” Alex said. “Congratulations and get out. Did you check Sanders’?” 

Isobel nodded. “And the Crashdown. I really thought he’d be in here with you! Hiding under the desk—”

“Out, Isobel! When are you leaving for Michigan, again?” 

“ _Rude_!” 

“You’re exactly the kind of curse I wish on Kyle, so this is perfect—”

“ _Alex_!” 

…

“Rosa!” Kyle cried, surprising Rosa on the roof of the Crashdown. “I thought I might find you here!” 

Rosa jumped, almost toppling over the massive thermos of coffee right beside her. “Valenti!” she barked. “What the hell are you doing here? Did you go through my _house?_ Who let you up here?”

“There’s...a fire escape? I thought—” 

Kyle tried to envision Maria and Liz, who were even shorter than he was and severely lacking upper body strength, climbing the fire escape like he just had. “You mean you guys don’t...never mind. I got into Michigan with a scholarship!” 

“You scared the crap out of me for that?” He was, technically, her baby brother, so maybe she should show more enthusiasm, so she made an attempt. She made awkward finger guns at him. “Free money, good job.” 

Kyle shrugged at the lackluster encouragement, trying to be thick-skinned about this, but he really wanted to leave Roswell on good terms with his half-sister. But they hadn’t been much like siblings even in the past year, so maybe this sounded more like bragging than sharing good news with a sibling. “Well, just thought you’d want to know. Just, telling family.” 

Rosa sighed as he turned away, realizing how that had sounded. Kyle didn’t deserve that, anymore. He deserved...well, a big sister. 

“Kyle. Sorry, come here, sit down.” She patted the cement next to her. “Tell me all about it. How much you still stuck paying? Isobel says her scholarship is like two grand, and then she tells me it’s like fifteen grand a year just to go there? And her parents are paying all that?” 

Kyle plopped down beside her and handed the letter over. “Well, med school is even more expensive than law school, and a career in public service doesn’t exactly make you Evans money. I’m still gonna have loans. But this is a big one.”

Rosa didn't understand most of the letter (what was Pre-Med? Why wasn't it all medical school? Why was college so expensive?) but she understood that $7,000 a year was close to what Michael was getting—difference was, that kind of money paid for all of UNM, plus extra, but not all of Michigan. Did cost of attendance correlate with quality of education? Was UNM good enough for her baby brother? Should she have pressured him to go to MIT or something? Where even was MIT?

"Hey, that's some serious cash, man. And it's a _real_ scholarship, not a football thing." She winked. "Aren't your parents going to help?"

“Yeah, they’re going to chip in for room and board—Mom says ‘well we’ve paid for it so far, why stop now’—and probably help some with the loans and stuff. It’ll be okay. I’m in it for the long haul anyway...I’ll just have to pay them back when I’m a badass surgeon or whatever. Too bad they gave me the wrong height genes to make NFL money,” he said with an awkward laugh.

"You were douchey when you played football, man. I'm glad you're short," Rosa said frankly. "I might actually miss you, now."

“Oh yeah?” Kyle tried not to let too much of his happiness show on his face—couldn’t sacrifice too many coolness points, after all. “Well, I’ll be back for every holiday, you can be sure of that. I’m going to miss Roswell—and the people here like you—too.”

“What’s cool in Michigan? What should I have you bring me as a present when you come back?” she wondered. Then a new thought struck her. “They probably only have white people food up there! What are you gonna do for spice?”

“I’m sure abuela will send me with my own spices to make sure I’m taken care of. And call me every night to make sure I’m using them,” Kyle said with a wry smile. “I don’t know. I’ve looked at a lot of pictures of Ann Arbor. It’s a nice place, but definitely not the desert. I don’t know what I’m going to do with water that big. And Canada’s, like, right there. Canada! Bizarre.”

“L-O-L,” Rosa said, “ _water_.” 

They laughed, and Rosa nudged him. “Don’t let anyone give you crap up there, where I’m not around to protect you. _I’m_ the only one who’s allowed to give you crap. Big sister rule.” 

“O-oh. Yeah. Thanks! I’ll be sure to let all the big city pre-meds hungry for fresh meat know to sleep with one eye open.” He nudged her back.

“It can’t be that long of a drive. Is it that long of a drive? Michael and Alex are only like two hours, and Liz’ll be, like, six…” 

“How fast do you _drive_ , Rosa?” 

“Fast as I want. Your mom loves me.” 

“She loves me, too, but that’s never stopped her…” Kyle grumbled, trailing off. Then he said, a little forlornly, “Michigan is like two days’ drive away. I’ll probably have to fly for holidays and stuff, if I can afford it. I’m really going to miss the desert.”

“You want me to gift you a little cactus?” Rosa laughed. “That and some chile, and you’re even taking an alien with you, man, you’re set. The extent of Roswell’s appeal.”

“Would it be too lame if I said yes? I mean, I’d probably kill it, but…”

“Cactuses are easy.” Rosa snorted. “Just prickly.” 

She wrapped an arm around Kyle, tentatively, but with more courage when he leaned into her, and sighed. “What are Maria and me gonna do without you crazy kids getting into trouble all the time, huh?”

“Find plenty of trouble of your own?” Kyle suggested, squeezing her back. “Or just live vicariously through Michael’s gossip, I guess. I have a hard time imagining he won’t be back to check on your dad, like, every other day.”

“I’m going to have to run him off with a stick,” Rosa growled. “He doesn’t trust me to look after him, or he doesn’t trust Papi to look after me. He _better_ trust Maria. I hope him and Liz both get overwhelmed and busy and excited and forget all about us...but I also don’t…” 

“I don’t know if it’s a lack of trust. I mean, I’m going to worry about my mom overworking herself, but it’s not because I think she can’t take care of herself or because I think Dad wouldn’t take care of her, or that abuela wouldn’t say something, I just...worry. It’s hard to go that far away and know you won’t be there immediately if something happens.”

“It’s hard to let your little ducklings go far away, too,” Rosa pointed out. She turned and messed up Kyle’s hair: “Especially when they’re still _so ugly_ , like, you’re worried about them going out into the world looking like _this—_ ” 

Kyle squawked and ducked away from her hands, furiously flattening his hair back down as she cackled and wrestled him down. They both laughed until their stomachs hurt, and when they finally sat back up, looking out from the Crashdown roof across the town and across the big desert sky, Kyle said,

“Thanks, Rosa.”

"I'm proud of you, dweeb," she answered.

“Do you have anything you made around?” Kyle asked suddenly. “I mean, something small, something I could afford, something I could take with me?”

"Way ahead of you, squirt. You're having a graduation party, right? Forget you ever asked such a dumb question, and don't buy too many posters for your dorm room yet."

…

"I'm just saying we have beer if we want to be a little delinquent _while_ we collect soil samples," Liz said, nodding at the cooler and grinning mischievously. She hoped Rosa didn't need her fake ID for anything tonight. "And since Mikey bailed on us, we don't have to be _total_ squares..."

“I’m sure Michael would relish being known as the square among us,” Max said wryly as he folded himself into the passenger seat of Liz’s car. This was far from the first time they’d ever been alone together, not even the first time since Christmas, but it still had Max hyper aware of his own hands, and also feeling like Liz’s dad might be lurking in the backseat just waiting for him to make a wrong move.

"I mean, if that doesn't say you two are brothers…" Liz ventured with a wink. "Okay, so we just need to go to a good clay spot, which is like, everywhere. How about the mines?"

“Sure! Um, while we’re there, there’s something I want to show you. Unless Michael’s already shown you, I guess he might’ve, I don’t know. But you’ve been such a big part of our lives...I want to share it with you.”

“Oh? I mean I know about the caves out here, Rosa used to hang out in them and get high and draw on the walls like a cavewoman,” Liz laughed, belying her nervousness that this was a past tense activity. She was worried about leaving her family, too, she just showed it less. 

“This cave is special, I guess,” Max said. “It’s a shallow, boarded-up section of the old turquoise mines...and it’s kind of where me, Isobel, and Michael come from. You’ll see what I mean.”

Liz laughed, nervousness bordering on excitement. Of course Michael had told her all he remembered, but _seeing_ the place they came from? She followed Max's directions, turning onto unfamiliar dirt roads, entirely distracted from being with the boy who was the closest thing she had to a boyfriend but like definitely wasn't her boyfriend. "What's left there? Is it a spaceship? Am I going to have to kill Michael for not showing me this?"

“Maybe a little? It _is_ pretty cool.” He flashed a shy smile at Liz. “But to be fair, he probably would have showed you a while ago...I was usually the one worried about what would happen if too many people knew. But, um...I’m not so scared anymore. You make me not scared.”

When she didn’t answer immediately, he stumbled over himself and continued, “Sorry, was that too much? Too cheesy? I know I can be _really_ fucking cheesy—”

"No, you're not cheesy, Max," Liz said, parking the car and turning toward him. "Or if you are, I like it. I'm glad I don't scare you, anymore. Even though I'm the last person you told!"

She slugged him, playfully, in the arm. Was that flirting? Was that the encouragement he needed? 

“Ouch!” But he wasn’t really hurt; he giggled, even, rubbing his arm where she hit him, goggling at her with the same heart eyes he’d worn for a decade now in her presence. She was so amazing. Just being around her was amazing. A little voice in Max’s head kept him awake wondering what they _were,_ even after what Liz had said about “just going for it” at Christmas, but around her he didn’t even care.

“Ready to go?” He asked, digging around at his feet for the baggies they’d put the dirt in.

"Only if you're promising me alien dirt," Liz said, now genuinely intrigued, following him over the scrubland and hard earth, hiking her backpack up over her shoulders. It was early summer, so blistering hot, and would be until the sun went down. Colorado sounded great right now. "Are you promising me alien dirt?"

“The dirt might be alien adjacent? I hadn’t really thought about it, but it has had something alien sitting on it for about sixty years…”

Max shifted the wood blocking the cave entrance and beckoned her forward, shining the way with a little pocket flashlight until the glow of the pods was enough to see by.

"Max, what—?"

Liz gasped at the glowing cave, pushing through immediately, completely unafraid. Max wouldn't take her anywhere unsafe. She stumbled in, mouth hanging open. "Max! Max, are these—are these your—"

She looked back at him, eyes huge and thrilled, before turning back to the glowing alien pods and covering her mouth. "I'm going to _kill_ Michael."

“Don’t! Like I said, it was my idea not to tell you. Mostly. But um...yeah. This is where we came from. Sort of. I mean really we came from up there,” he pointed at the ceiling of the cave, “But we emerged from these. I don’t know if the dirt is appropriate for a school project, though.”

"Are you kidding? I'm taking some samples for _me._ " She immediately scooped some dirt into a bag and labeled it. She reached out to touch the glowing pod, tapping it once. "Do you guys even know what substance these are? Have you tested them?"

Liz continued to babble excitedly, walking around each of them and searching the cave for any mutant plants or animals. "Are they radioactive? How do you get into them? Why do they glow? Are these like the pods that your people are in at Caulfield? Can anyone go in them or are they keyed to your bodies? _Max,_ tell me everything." 

Max laughed again, a little nervously, rubbing the back of his head. “I guess I really _should_ have let Michael be the one to show you these. He’d have better answers than I do. But, um, yeah, our people are in pods like these. I don’t think they’re radioactive, but I also don’t know why they glow. Michael says they didn’t do anything special to get into them at Caulfield, but we also haven’t found any way to get into these ones, so it’s not as simple as biometrics and also not something scientists could figure out over fifty years, so…”

"Well that's good," Liz said. "On the other hand, those military shmucks are so dumb. They probably only tried guns and knives and gave up."

Liz stopped, turned to Max, and smiled. "Thanks, Max. You do realize we're going to have to come back out here a lot, right? I want to run some more tests!"

“Sure! I mean, I trust you—we all trust you—so now that you know the way, you can come back whenever…”

Liz gave him a look, both fond and confused. “I’d want you to come back with me, obviously. It’s your history, you deserve to know even more than my curiosity demands.”

“Oh! Oh.” Max rocked on his toes, the question on the tip of his tongue. But should he really ask it? That was something friends would say to each other, right? And she was probably including Michael and Isobel in that, too. But still…

“Liz, what are we?” Oh God, so confrontational. “I mean…”

"Well, I'm a human, and we're trying to determine what you are…" Liz teased, and then cracked a smile. "I'm kidding!"

She moved closer to him and slugged his arm, again, but lightly, just a touch of knuckles. "I expected you to finally ask this question on some romantic spot on the Bridge in San Francisco or something…"

Max ducked his head and nodded. “Right, uh, this probably isn’t the most romantic place, I guess. And sorry if I just made everything super weird and you don’t want me to come along anymore, it just seemed like…” he took a deep breath, then lifted up to look in her eyes again and said, as earnestly as he could, “I love being around you so much when you go into scientist mode. Your eyes light up and your brain goes into overdrive and you talk a mile a minute making these leaps of brainpower that no one else can match...I couldn’t _not_ ask. But if you want to answer me on the Golden Gate Bridge, that’s okay.”

"See?" Liz stepped toward him. Max was still being awkward and tried to make himself smaller than he was, almost backed down as she moved in, but she liked that about him. No room for two Type-As in one relationship. "Loving me even when I go all scientist on your pod egg things. I knew you'd make it romantic."

She placed her hands in his. "So, we're going on a road trip together. A human scientist and an alien writer. And you're following me off to college. Let me ask you: what are we, Max?"

Max took a deep breath, staring at their joined hands, then said, “I want to be your boyfriend. Us to be together. If you want that too.”

"Then it’s settled," Liz said, matter-of-factly. As an afterthought, she tilted her head up and kissed him, briefly, on the lips. "Took you long enough, boyfriend. Took _us_ long enough."

“Yeah,” Max whispered, leaning forward to kiss her lightly again, wrapping his arms around her waist to hold her tightly. His whole body buzzed with joy and light and _rightness._

“I am, however, totally going to make sex jokes about alien experimentation. Can I have a tape recorder on? ‘This is Elizabeth Ortecho, I’m about to be probed by an alien,’” Liz pressed, waiting for his blush before she laughed again: “I’m _joking_!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We just finished writing "the end" last night, so it's officially in sight!! 😭


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw for underage drinking, "stolen" hubcaps, a surprising new relationship, and an otherwise very normal june 7th, 2008

_June 7, 2008_

"Look, I'm not coming with you tonight, and that's it," Rosa told Kate Long and Jasmine Walters over the end of breakfast crowd. "I'm hanging out with some other friends tonight. Besides, I'm trying to stay clean for a bit."

She spoke lightly, vaguely joking, though she wished she had Isobel's mind powers and could just make these two leeches forget she existed.

"What, you'd rather hang out with your little sisters and _their_ friends?" Jasmine scoffed. 

"Because _that's_ so cool. What are you gonna do for fun when your little chickies leave the nest if you burn us?" Kate wondered sarcastically. 

Rosa rolled her eyes. “Oh, I’ll figure something out. I don’t cry into my pillow at night wondering if you two will keep letting me provide drugs for you. Bum shitty weed off your brother or steal pills from your mom or talk to Frederico yourselves for once, he doesn’t bite. Besides, I sell art now—I’ve got other rich white ladies lining my pockets _._ ”

Kate and Jasmine left the restaurant without tipping. Once upon a time they might have left without paying for the milkshakes they were just gonna purge anyway later, but since Mr. Ortecho was a legal citizen who was friends with the Sheriff, they had learned not to skip out on the actual bill. Rosa considered them leaving to be all the tip she needed. 

But outside, Kate and Jasmine took out their frustrations on Rosa's car. (They just couldn't be seen talking to Frederico, okay? Rosa was just going to have to come to terms with her responsibility to them, or learn her place!)

Rosa didn’t see the damage until later, when she left the diner. Her first curse was screamed, then the rest hissed out through clenched teeth so no one heard and came to investigate.

Those little _bitches._ When Rosa got her hands on them, she was going to—

“Rosa?” Isobel asked from the mouth of the alley.

“What the hell are _you_ doing here?” Rosa seethed.

“Well I was _going_ to buy a milkshake and maybe get my shovel talk on a little to your sister—just a little!—but I think I should be asking _you_ what _you’re_ doing? Who did that to your car? I’ll kick their ass if you want. With my brain.”

"Ugh, no, don't do that," Rosa groaned, trying to will Isobel away, but that had never worked in the history of ever. "Forget about it. God damn it, Liz needed the car, she can't see it like this!"

“Hand sanitizer gets rid of sharpie, it’ll be okay,” Isobel said, pulling a bottle and a packet of tissues out of her purse. “Clearly someone isn’t sophisticated enough for spray paint.”

(Their brains hadn’t been sophisticated enough to withstand Isobel's venture into their mindscapes, either, when Isobel had caught them red-handed. 

_Forget you ever knew her, and walk away_ , Isobel had told them, leaving them walking away in a stupor.) 

Now Isobel worked quickly to help Rosa get the car as cleaned up as they could. It was lucky—as much as any of this could be called lucky—that Kate and Jasmine hadn’t broken any windows or slashed the tires. Once they were done, Rosa stuffed the tissues into the garbage, and Isobel leaned back against the wall.

“I don’t think people tell you enough how incredible this mural is,” she said, gazing all around the alley. “You should get it photographed professionally or something. For your portfolio.”

"I've already got a girlfriend to nag me," Rosa snapped, then realized how mean that sounded, and backpedaled. "Thank you, I know, I'm sorry. Those two just—ugh. And they let the air out of my tires so I'm still gonna need to steal the pump from Mikey without letting him know...oh, shit! And I've got band practice! Alex is gonna have kittens. Isobel, can you give me a ride?"

“Yeah, sure, no problem. Michael’s a huge bitch when band practice gets disrupted.” She fished her keys out and led the way out of the alley. “I can distract him for you later while you get the pump. And don’t worry about Kate and Jasmine."

Rosa snorted and let that go.

"I need a drink," Rosa admitted once they were in the Jeep together. 

Isobel shot her a sympathetic look. “I bet. But that’s between you, your band, and Ms. DeLuca’s liquor cabinet, I guess. I got nothing in the car.”

Rosa leaned back against the window, too emotionally exhausted for it to only be 2PM. "If...okay, look, if Maria ever goes to you, or, like, Liz, and you hear about it because Max tells you everything, and I'm not measuring up, you'd let me know, right? Kick my ass back into Maria's good graces? I need a sobriety sponsor, but everyone I know is…"

Leaving. And that was fine. It was good for them. Good for her, too, hopefully. She just knew Maria didn't suffer fools, and she had a finite number of screw-ups allotted to her. She had lucked out so far, essentially, she felt. Like she was on borrowed time, somehow. 

Isobel looked her way again, half pitying, half genuine concern. “Rosa, Maria loves you. Like, total head over heels. The girl code prevents me from blabbing some stuff, but trust me—you’re not going to drive her away any time soon. And she can stand up for herself, y’know? But yeah, scout’s honor. I’ll let you know.”

They drove in silence for a little while longer, then Isobel said, “And, you know, if you need a sponsor? Maybe you could talk to Mr. Valenti and he could help you out? Not to monger gross gossip like the junior bridge club bitch I am, but I know he’s had alcohol problems too.”

"Yeah right, bio dad and daughter, who drink to forget the same Helena Ortecho," Rosa snarked bitterly to keep from choking up. Ugh, that was actually a good idea. If only drinking were her _only_ problem. Still, she had a responsibility, to her dad, her siblings, and most of all, Maria. She couldn't well date the daughter of a bartender if she was this close to the edge… "That's actually a good idea. I'd say you can graduate to full bridge club bitch."

“Thanks, what an honor.” She gave Rosa a real smile, though, as she turned onto the DeLucas’ street.

"I owe you one," Rosa said, thanking Isobel as she bounded into the DeLuca’s garage. 

“Who’s counting?” 

“I _know_ you are!” 

Inside, Rosa submitted to an almost motherly kiss from Maria, who always acted older even though she was like six months younger. "Sorry I'm late."

“It’s no problem,” Michael said, almost dreamily, and when Rosa looked over at him, he and Alex were all entwined on the bench, Michael’s legs over Alex’s lap, Alex’s guitar resting on his thighs as he strummed softly. Rosa looked back at Maria, who rolled her eyes fondly and let her hands fall to wrap around Rosa’s waist.

"I mean, is band practice just a euphemism now?" Rosa asked. 

"That was funny the first ten times," Alex said, patting Michael's legs. "Let's get to it. Only eight more sessions before we're gone."

Maria rolled her eyes again even as she slid behind her keys. “You’re moving to Albuquerque, not Mars. I think we’ll still manage a few jam sessions a year.”

"Damn right we will. If we can come back during finals week, we can get in enough practice that I can book us some Christmas gigs."

"Ugh, Christmas music," Rosa said. 

"Yay, Christmas _bonus_ ," Maria said. 

Michael leaned over and started plinking out “Jingle Bells” on Maria’s keyboard until she slapped his hands away.

“Hey! My hands are valuable, y’know,” he said.

“Uh-huh, sure. Think Max knows how to play bass?”

"A trained monkey could play bass," Rosa said.

“Hey!”

"Alright, you guys," Alex said, voice pitching powerful though not precisely loud. "Can we try one of the ones me and Maria wrote?"

“Of course,” Michael said.

Pure happiness washed through Rosa every time she heard Maria sing, and even more so when they were words Maria herself or Alex had written, so she nodded, picked up her drumsticks, and said, “Let’s hit it.”

Rosa counted them off and they muddled through the song once, and then Alex made them go back and practice various sections individually before he let them play the whole thing through. 

They moved on to covers for fun, and even laughed through a few terrible-sounding Christmas songs. Rosa was having so much fun she almost forgot about the car, and how she was going to have to lie to her sister about who could use it that afternoon. 

… 

"Rosa, Max and I were going to the mines again!" Liz complained when Rosa finally called her. "And Isobel's got _his_ car!"

"Well, look, you get it for college, kiddo, not before," Rosa told her, not wanting to admit to the vandalism. It was her problem she’d deal with it. 

“Rosa!” 

“She can drive the truck,” Michael said. In the lull in playing, he’d gravitated back toward Alex and was now hanging off his back, looking over his shoulder at some music. 

"There, Michael's letting you drive his truck, you big baby," Rosa said, mouthing _thank you_ at Michael until she hung up. "Guess I'll take it to her now. See you guys at Valenti’s thing later?"

"I'll keep him busy," Alex promised.

"Ooh, where are we taking the car?" Maria asked, obviously thinking there was something up. 

"I'll tell you later," she said, dragging Maria out the front door. 

Unencumbered by brothers and jackets, they headed out the door in their sandals before Rosa broke the news to her. 

"Kate and Jasmine fucked with my car again. I don't want Liz or Michael to know."

“You’re kidding! Those little—ugh!” Maria fumed. “Oh my God, fuck them. Rosa…”

Her anger burned as fast as it did hot, and then it turned into concern, and she reached over to cup Rosa’s face and pull her into a hug.

“Fuck them,” she repeated into Rosa’s shoulder.

"I wish _they_ were going off to college. Is it bad or good to wish college on your enemies?" Rosa huffed, trying not to get too emotional. She reached into Michael's truck and pulled the seat forward before she could scream. 

“Who cares about college? Wishing them away from here and out of our hair is good enough,” Maria said.

Rosa nodded. "I just need to fill the tires up with air, and then I'll take you somewhere," she promised, once she had calmed down. "Isobel helped me fix most of it." 

“Good, I’m glad. But you don’t have to take me anywhere if you’re pooped. We can just go up on the roof like old times. That’s all I’ve ever needed, if you’re there.”

Rosa leaned across the seat and kissed Maria. "You deserve more, though. You're gonna get it. After Valenti’s party."

Rosa winked, letting Maria think what she wanted about that cryptic reply.

Back inside, Alex was as singularly focused on kissing Michael senseless against the wall of the sweltering garage as he had been singularly focused on music just minutes before. Michael surrendered to it totally, his leg wrapped around the back of Alex’s knees, his hands under the hem of Alex’s shirt. 

But he was still the one to pull back and gasp, “They’re going to come back in any minute—mmm…”

"No, they're not," Alex urged. "But you wanted to tell me something about Valenti’s party, right?" 

Alex endeavored to look Michael in the eyes and not kiss him, when all he wanted to do was lose himself in those eyes until inspiration struck again. He and Maria were in an unstated competition to write more queer-coded love songs than the other before summer was out, and she was currently, frustratingly, ahead, because Michael was so damn bewitching. 

“Y-yeah.” Self-restraint was hard for Michael, too, when he still had his hands resting on warm, bare skin, when he could still feel Alex’s heartbeat against his own chest. “I was thinking...as a show of love and acceptance of his reformation...we might pull a little prank on him…”

Alex laughed aloud, revenge fantasies being even sexier than Michael. "Oho! I'm listening…"

“You see the fancy new car his parents got him to carry him to Michigan? Well…”

…

Liz got off her shift at the Crashdown still in a bad mood, throwing food into bags angrily for her trip with Max out to the desert. She joked that these trips were her figuring out if she could stand him for long enough to take the guy on a road trip, but really, it was about studying those pods and the area around them. 

The sight of Max put her in a better mood, actually, so, yeah, she knew she'd survive him tagging along waxing poetic on their road trip. She smiled at him and his awkward wave. 

"So, my sister's obnoxious, so we're taking Michael's truck," she said. 

“Okay, sure! Thank you, Michael. I’ll buy gas.”

He shot her a beaming smile, that then slipped, then jumped back onto his face. He was fidgeting with something in his pocket, too, and bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet. 

"He wasn't using it, I think he's going with Alex to Kyle's party later. Who _knows_ what Rosa's deal is." Liz took a closer look at Max as she handed him the bags of burgers and fries. "What's got your britches in a bunch?"

“Oh, um, nothing. Well, actually.” He pulled his hand out of his pocket and handed Liz a piece of paper. His next words came out all in a rush, “I wrote you something. But you don’t have to read it right now. Or respond. Um, I was going to give it to you when we said goodbye today, or maybe on our trip, but I’m a mess, so.”

"Oh my God, Max!" Liz said, setting the food down to hug him. "Is this an asking me out note? Because I thought we cleared that up," she teased, but quickly moved on: "How about you drive and I'll read?"

Max hugged her back, squeezing her but not too tight, and leaning down so he could smell her hair, but not like in a weird way.

“Oh God.” Max actually gulped. “I mean, okay! It’s not exactly an asking you out note, it’s just...some words. That I had to say about you. To you. You’re amazing, Liz.”

"Aw, Max," Liz said, clambering into the passenger side. "Nothing is 'just words' with you."

She read. 

It wasn't quite poetry, but only because his writing went all the way to the end of each line. The words he wrote were poetic, and pretty, and cheesy while being surprisingly insightful. It was a love letter, he said, the first of many, his feelings showing in words what he hadn’t managed to say out loud. 

“Oh, Max,” she said, touching his arm, squeezing it until he stopped gripping the steering wheel so tight. She clutched the letter to her chest. “Max, you’re too sweet. You know I already promised you’re coming with me, you don’t have to prove anything to me. And I—I love you, too.” 

Max covered her hand with his and smiled in her direction, his eyes a little glossy with emotion.

“It’s not about proving anything, really. I just like telling you how amazing you are. How excited I am to be a part of your life and all the amazing things you’re going to do.”

Liz was fixated on him for several breaths, until her eyes watered, either from emotion or from not blinking. Maybe both. “And I’m glad to have you with me,” she said. “I know we don’t know much about where you came from or who you are, but—I’m glad you’re here. I want you here. You’re wonderful and fascinating and someone I want to spend my whole life learning about. And whatever horrible things happened in the past to get you here, Max, I’m grateful.” 

“I’m grateful too,” Max said softly, blinking at the road through his happy tears. “Maybe I’ll never know what happened...but it doesn’t matter, when I think about my life in Roswell, with Isobel and our parents, with Michael, with your family...with you.”

Liz beamed at him: Max was rock solid, dependable; he would follow her anywhere, do anything for her. That was important to Liz, even mommy-abandonment issues aside. And that made her feel safe, and that made her _happy_. He would protect her if she needed, but mostly he was happy to follow her lead. 

She watched the desert roll by outside the windows of Michael's crappy old truck, laughed when Max nearly stalled out on a gear shift (straining the transmission that Michael would harass him for later), and thought she couldn't be happier. 

…

"And here's what my parents got me for graduation— _what the fuck?!_ " 

At the beginning of his senior year, Kyle Valenti never would have thought that he'd throw a graduation/going-away party to which he invited a. not a single member of the football team, and b. every freak and geek in school. 

He also never would have guessed that someone would have the nerve to steal _hubcaps_ from the son of the Sheriff!!

“Oh, shit!” Max exclaimed. 

Isobel wrapped her arm around Kyle’s waist. “D’you think it was those troglodytes on the football team? _So_ immature.”

“Do you want me to go get your parents?” Liz asked.

Alex fought down a smile and said, casually, “I don’t know, it could have been anyone. Where’d you last see them, Valenti?”

"Don't start with me, Manes—what, do you know something?"

Kyle peered at him dangerously, but Alex, cool as a cucumber though he knew exactly where the hubcaps were, seemed to think this was just karma. He shrugged. "You wanna put out an APB?" 

“Manes…” Kyle growled.

“Now, now, let’s not fight…” Michael snickered. Max and Isobel turned to him with identical looks of disapproval.

“Michael, what did you do?” Max asked.

“Me? Nothing! Why’s it have to be me?”

"That is profiling!" Alex joked. 

Maria, Liz, and Kyle gave him a hard look until he backed down, laughing awkwardly. 

"Well, it's still a very nice car with invisible hubcaps," Maria pointed out. “Like Wonder Woman’s jet?”

Kyle narrowed his eyes at her. Obviously no one was taking this as seriously as they should. "Alright, very funny, haha, which one of you did this?"

Michael clapped him on the back. “None of us would ever pull a gentle prank on you to make sure old grudges get settled, buddy. I’m sure your hubcaps will make their way back to you unharmed, ok?”

“Oh my God, it _is_ you?” Isobel cried. 

“Ortecho!” Kyle cried, clutching his heart. “Seriously, man, what the hell? Put them back!” 

“Fine, fine,” Michael laughed. “The look on your face, man.” He gestured at the car and the trunk popped open, but then his forehead creased when nothing floated out. “Uhhhhh….”

“Oh, shit,” Alex said.

“Wait, what? Where are they supposed to be?” Kyle demanded. 

“Oh no,” Isobel said, “you stole them and then _lost_ them?”

“We didn’t lose them,” Alex said. 

“You’re in on this, too, Manes?” Valenti cried, face red and voice panicky. 

“Michael, what happened?” Max asked, attempting to take charge of the situation. 

“It was just a harmless prank! I put the hubcaps in the trunk! I just wanted to mess with you a bit,” Michael said, hands up.

“....There’s a note back here,” Isobel interrupted.

Kyle snatched the note and read aloud: "If you want to see your hubcaps again, come out for a _real_ graduation party. Maria and Michael will know where."

"Is that where Rosa snuck off to?" Maria said, reading over Kyle's shoulder. She looked around as suddenly everyone was staring at her. "Don't look at me, she did all this on her own. She told _me_ she was going on a beer run." 

“Do you think she means the cave, Maria?” Michael asked. “Kyle, _don’t_ tell your mom…”

“Probably—”

“I ought to!”

“Valentiiii…”

“Let’s just go see Rosa,” Liz cut in. “ _Then_ you can rat Michael out, Kyle.”

They piled into Max's jeep and Michael's truck, leaving behind the rest of the cars, and telling the Valentis they would be home before midnight. Maria rode with Max, Liz, and Kyle, while Isobel and Alex rode with Michael, and they all headed out to the desert. 

"Where the hell are we going?" Kyle asked several times, but Liz shushed him. It was too dark to follow their trail at some point, but Michael leading the way seemed to know where he was going, until he paused at a small knoll. 

"It's in one of these caves," Michael said. "I haven't been here since I was a kid."

Maria headed straight to the cave in question, however, and the other soon noticed light coming from inside. 

"You made it!" Rosa said, hugging and kissing Maria as the others trickled in. 

Kyle's hubcaps waited nearby, painted tastefully and heterosexually with some flames. There were also several six-packs and some bubbly wine (because Rosa knew her girlfriend) and snacks. "What kind of sister would I be if I didn't give my baby brother a _real_ going away party?"

“You almost got me arrested!” Michael lamented at her.

“Nah, Alex would have taken the fall for you. Right, Alex?”

"Bold of you to think I wouldn't have talked my way out of any charges."

"You _helped_!"

Isobel went right for the beer, grabbing one for herself then tossing one to Max, who shook his head and handed it off to Liz. 

“Someone has to drive us back,” he said.

"You're such a square, and I love that about you," Liz told him, definitely taking a solo cup full of bubbly sweet wine from Maria. 

Kyle was still shaking his head at the hubcaps. Rosa brought him an open beer. 

"If your big sister can't get you drunk for graduation, no one can," she said. "You like 'em okay? Take it for a car wash if you don't."

“No, they kick ass, man. I don’t know if I’ll be able to keep ‘em out of the rain at Michigan, though,” he said. “Hey, do you think you could do a pair of shoes? I’d pay you for it, of course.”

"I'm not gonna charge you, man," she smiled. "Just buy the shoes. You can get me expensive gifts when you're a doctor, or married to a lawyer."

"...Or?"

"Rosa, how come _I_ didn't get a scavenger hunt semi-legal graduation party?" Liz demanded, stamping her foot. 

"I'm still trying to forget I'm related to co-Valedictorians," Rosa replied, teasing. "What kind of party do I throw for that? Like a church picnic?"

“Hey, the mathletes go hard, don’t diss,” Michael said. He hadn’t even had a drink yet, but he was already hanging off Alex’s shoulder just because he could.

Isobel sighed at the pair of them, in that way that usually preceded some nasty teasing. “It was nice of you to stay in the closet to give the rest of us a chance at Cutest Couple in the yearbook.” 

“I don’t plan on peaking in high school, Isobel,” Alex replied in kind. (He hadn’t even bought a yearbook.) 

“Forrest almost petitioned for consideration, but since his boyfriend doesn’t go to our school anymore…” Max said.

“Wait, Forrest has another boyfriend?” Alex asked.

“Um, yeah, I-I assumed you knew,” Max replied, eyes big.

Alex waved a hand. “Nah, I mean, we’re friendly, but not that close. I just didn’t know he was dating an upperclassman. Good for him, whatever.”

“Uhhh….”

“Let’s just say he has a type and move on,” Isobel said. 

Maria giggled, sitting in Rosa’s lap. 

“Oh my God, now I have to know,” Alex groaned. 

Isobel waited until Alex, still feigning nonchalance, took a swig of beer before she said, “Apparently the long-distance thing is working really well for Flint and Forrest.” 

Alex spit his beer everywhere and, voice cracking heinously, said, “WHAT.”

“I thought you knew!” Max repeated. "He's your brother!"

"And your Veep!"

Alex had sucked in a breath to demand, again, what, precisely, the fuck, but this time he choked on spit or beer and was now in the middle of a coughing fit. Michael patted his back. 

"It's been like a year. I can't believe you didn't know!" Isobel said wickedly. 

"This is what you get for not having a Facebook, Alex," Maria said. 

" _You knew?!_ " Alex rasped, practically apoplectic. 

“I didn’t know,” Michael comforted, stroking his arm to try and get him to calm down.

"I mean, I _talk_ to people, Alex," Maria said. “I heard he rebounded off you basically immediately, and it stuck.” 

Rosa was just shaking her head in slow, dumbfounded delight. “This is incredible,” she said. “This is amazing. I can’t _wait_ until I see Flint again. This explains so much.”

"I think we can all conclude Flint was just a jerk because he was closeted," Maria agreed. 

Liz was laughing.

"Maybe he was just a jerk, _and_ closeted," Isobel said. "I heard Forrest and him were texting _before_ you two broke up, technically." 

"Don't rumor-monger, Isobel," Max said sternly. 

Alex sat down. "I want to throw up."

“Hey, now you and Flint have something to talk about…”

“Shut UP, Isobel!”

Alex was holding his head in his hands, torn between laughing and crying, and between being furious at his brother for being such a douche about _him_ being gay and being happy for him finally figuring himself out. "I mean, good for—I think Forrest can do a lot better, but— _oh my God_. Rosa, do you—"

Way ahead of him, Rosa dropped a fifth of tequila in his lap. 

"Finish that. You need it more than me and I'm trying to lay off the hard stuff." 

Alex knocked it back grimly and let Michael gently guide his head onto his shoulder.

“There, there,” Michael said, lips twitching but not _actually_ smiling at Alex’s pain.

“Come on, this is supposed to be Kyle’s party, not Manes family daytime drama,” Isobel said. “Does anyone have an iPod on them? I left mine in the Jeep, we need music.”

"Got you covered," Rosa said, getting the music going, and handing out Oreos and bags of chips. She had very clearly planned ahead. 

She caught Liz looking at the cave walls, which had been painted and painted over again. 

"I knew you had places like this...and I get that you need your privacy and all that. I just don't know what I expected. It's beautiful, here." 

Rosa threw her arm around Liz’s shoulders, pulling her in close and smushing their cheeks together. “Not to turn this into a total sapfest, _but..._ that’s why I brought you out here, chica. Light this place up and share it with everyone before you all go.”

Liz blinked, face scrunching up in unbridled joy, bordering on tears. “Thanks for sharing it with us. With me. Are you gonna be okay?” 

Rosa looked around the cave, sighing. “I dunno. Maybe. I’ve got Maria, dad, my not-so-secret-anymore cave…” 

She held up a thick, brand-new paint marker. “You wanna leave me a note?” 

“You’re actually asking me to mess with your stuff?” Liz took the marker with glee. 

“Sure. Go hog wild. But don’t get used to it!” Rosa said, nudging her with her elbow, then returning to the party to give her her privacy.

Before the end of the night, Rosa handed out markers to everyone to sign her "yearbook"—the cave wall. They signed with their initials and the date, enough that Rosa knew, but nothing that was incredibly incriminating if the cave was ever found by anyone else.

Alex and Kyle were both successfully drunk, with Isobel, Liz and Maria not far behind, and they all danced and sang at the top of their lungs—no noise complaints to worry about out here. Michael, only tipsy, joined in without a care in the world, and he had his arm around his brother’s shoulders trying to get him to join in too, even as Max tried to get away from him.

Rosa just took the chance to watch. She sat on a rock a little ways back, nodding and tapping her foot along to the music, remembering when she chased a kid out here and found him worn out asleep behind this same rock, and comparing that to watching him and Liz and all their friends let loose.

Yeah, the kids were gonna be alright.


	24. Chapter 24

Michael tossed his backpack into the passenger side then hopped into his truck. It was a hot, dusty day, the middle of summer. He just sat there for a second, hands wrapped around the heated steering wheel, then he let out a huge sigh and turned the key.

Okay. First stop, Valenti house.

For months now, ever since the scholarships and acceptance letters rolled in and the future delivered itself into his hands for real, he’d been saving and thinking and working on this. Now that the moment was here, his heart beat like a butterfly against his ribs. Maybe this was stupid. Maybe no one he talked to today would understand; maybe they’d even laugh at him or whatever. But he still had to do it.

And he’d been thorough, so he knew that when he pulled up to the Valenti house, Michelle and Jim would both be home on a coordinated admin day. He parked behind Jim’s car, took another deep breath, and went to ring the doorbell.

Jim and Michelle were relaxing on the couch, already daydreaming about how their lives would change when their son was away at college, and they were surprised to hear someone in the driveway—wasn’t Kyle out all day?—and even more surprised when the doorbell rang. They waited, in case it was just a package being dropped off, but Jim moved his head to the side to check the doorstep from where he was sitting. 

“Oh, it’s Michael Ortecho!” he said, standing up and going to the door, yanking it open. “Michael! Everything okay?” 

“Um, hi, yeah, everything’s,” he took a deep breath and rocked on his toes, “great. Can I come in?”

Jim stepped aside, brow still furrowed in concern. Michael glanced around the room, sliding his backpack off his shoulder and clutching it in his hands.

“Hi, Sheriff,” he said to Michelle, and she waved back at him.

“What’s this about, Michael?” she asked, and gave him a wry smile. "Here to try to confess to one of Rosa's petty misdemeanors again?"

Michael’s responding laughter was weak. “Haha, no, ma’am. Okay. Um.” 

Unzipping the bag, he pulled out the faintly shimmering piece of alien glass Jim gave him so long ago and held it out to the man.

"Oh," Michelle and Jim both said. 

Michelle stood up from the couch. "Jim, what—"

"It's one of the alien spaceship fragments I kept from Jesse. What's going on, Michael?"

“Well, you know. I’m leaving for college soon. And I can’t exactly hold onto this in a dorm room, and I could give it to my dad but what would he do with it? And, well.” He stared at the piece instead of looking up at the Valentis. “You gave this to me when I was little. So that I’d trust you. And, well...I do. I want you to look after it, Mr. Valenti. Jim.”

Jim found himself instantly choked with emotion, and unable to speak for a moment. He objectively had no use for the fragment, but the meaning behind the gift was clear. 

"Michael," he finally said, "you don't need to give this to me. I know."

Jim took the spaceship piece and held it in his hands, involuntarily reminded of Michael as a child, dwarfed by the size of the piece and sporting a black eye. "It's more yours than mine, son. But if you want me to keep it safe for you, until you're back from college or settled wherever, yeah. I'll hold onto it for you."

“Thank you,” he said, and it wasn’t just thanks for this one moment. 

Then, Michael turned to Michelle and pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket, unfolding it to show her a map marked with a little ‘x’ out near the old turquoise mines. “I know how hard you searched for where we came from,” he said. “Well, here’s part of the answer. Our three pods are out in that cave. Keep an eye on them for us?”

Michelle smiled tightly, almost sadly, but she nodded. "I'll do that, Michael."

She offered him a hand to shake, and when he took it, she told him, "It would have been easier if you were part of some desert cult, you know."

“I know. But thanks for never backing down anyway.”

He left the Valenti house feeling far lighter than the weight of the piece could account for, slid back into his truck, and headed toward his next stop.

— 

Sanders Auto was only slightly less dusty than usual. The old man would never notice that someone had hosed down the sign and scrubbed the place down, so Michael did that gratis while he waited for him to make an appearance. And when that beat up red truck came trundling up the road at 1 pm on the dot—the time Sanders always came back from lunch—Michael leapt to his feet to meet him.

Sanders was able to mask the involuntary smile that sprang to his face whenever he saw the kid hanging around his junkyard, but he managed to school his features into his usual grumpy frown by the time he got out of his truck. 

“What’ja do this time?” he asked gruffy, a bit of the smile escaping at his fondness for the boy. 

“Nothing! Promise. I came to give you something, actually.”

He trotted a few steps over to his own truck and snagged a box from under the seat, spinning it in his hands then handing it over all jerky and eager.

“It’s not much. But I hope you’ll use it.”

Sanders lifted the lid and stared down at the brand new skillet and spatula, then looked back up at Michael, who hurried to explain himself.

“Look, you may only be able to cook one thing, but you're really good at it. And you ought to have the tools to make it right so you can actually feed yourself when I'm not around.”

About a decade ago, before this kid came into his life, before he saw Ms. Nora again, and when Sanders didn’t have any friends or family to speak of, he might have been able to handle this show of kindness with some measure of stoicism. But now there were cracks in his old bitter heart where light shone through. Now he knew the Crashdown was a safe place, somewhere he was welcome—the Wild Pony, too. Even the Sheriff looked kindly on him, for all that he had never paid a cent in taxes or even voted for her. So instead of nodding or just thanking the kid gruffly, Sanders’ face did that crumbling thing when he recognized he was trying not to cry from happiness. He ignored the pan completely, instead pulling Michael into a hug before he could see him falling apart. 

He swallowed several times, attempting to speak. All he managed, eventually, was “Damn it, boy. What’s this for? Ain’t even my birthday.” 

Michael stuck his face into Sanders’s shoulder, fully leaning in to the hug. When he spoke it was muffled by old cotton and cigarette smoke. “For taking care of me, duh. For all the things you taught me. Figured I’d do all the sappy shit now so we can enjoy the summer without a big going away hanging over me.”

“Aw, kid,” Sanders said, and it was again all he could say for several minutes, just hugging the boy. He took a deep breath and swallowed carefully as he prepared to speak. “I want you to know—I came by the shelter. When they found you. I thought you might be—” he had to stop. “Anyway, they wouldn’t let a junkyard dog that smelled like bathtub gin adopt a kid, either time I tried. Glad you ended up in a better place. Lot better place.” 

He patted Michael’s back, but didn’t let him go.

Michael pulled back just slightly so they could look at each other, but that just meant that Sanders could see exactly when Michael’s lip started to wobble and exactly when the first tears spilled over and down his face. 

“You, y-you, you really wanted me?” Michael sobbed, then tipped his face into his hands, wiping furiously at his eyes. 

He didn’t regret anything; he wouldn’t trade a day that he spent as part of the Ortecho family. But that didn’t mean there wasn’t a tiny part of him afraid that he’d been forced on a family that hadn’t wanted him and just made do, a tiny part of him that could finally breathe knowing that he’d been wanted from the very start.

“Lots of people wanted you, kid,” Sanders said. “Never forget that. Just sometimes people don’t get what they want, that’s the kicker.” 

Sanders squeezed Michael tighter, and then released him. 

Michael sniffled and rubbed his nose. “Thanks, Mr. Sanders. For everything.”

“Okay, kid. I got it,” Sanders said gruffly, clapping him on the shoulder again, and that was that.

—

After leaving the junkyard, Michael took a couple seconds to compose himself, then headed for the Wild Pony. It was still early in the afternoon, but he knew Mimi would be there prepping for opening, and he knew she’d let him in. 

It was different, standing on the porch of the Pony in the quiet daylight, trying to remember how enormous and loud and crowded it seemed the first time he saw it. Running his fingers down the wood grain of the railing, he remembered the stamp Maria put on his hand, remembered the little kids’ table in the back where he met Rosa and Liz for the first time, remembered the rickety old chair and its pile of coats and the way this place was the first time he’d ever felt  _ welcome  _ anywhere.

He knocked on the door and waved through the window when Mimi looked up.

"We’re closed,” she told him, teasing, as she opened the door. “Which is the only reason you’re allowed in here, kiddo. Maria and Alex said they were looking for you. What’s up?” 

“Oh, I’ll catch up with them later. I, um, just wanted to give you this.” He held out a broad, flat book to her and followed her over to the bar where she laid it down to look inside.

Inside, she found old photos of a man named Roy Bronson, blurbs in newsprint about his skill and steady hand and various agriculture competitions he’d won in town. She found one or two pictures of a woman named Louise, too, mostly blurry and enhanced from the backgrounds of other images, but still. And then on the next pages, notes and diagrams of alien ships in a hand she recognized as Michael’s, telling her everything he’d been able to learn about where the aliens came from and how and why. Then there was everything about Mimi’s own mother, carefully preserved, and further still, as Mimi flipped pages and held a hand over her heart, her own life, baby photos, everything. On the very last page, there was a polaroid of Maria and Isobel with arms around each other’s shoulders making faces at the camera.

“Maria helped with the last part,” Michael said. “And the rest of it, I just thought, you know, in some ways we’re family, and I don’t know why no one ever told your mother where she came from or helped her out, but you deserve to know. So I went to the library and I talked to Mr. Harrison in Window Rock about Louise Truman, and Mr. Sanders helped with the stuff about Roy Bronson because Roy basically raised him, too, until he died and, um, you probably already know the stuff about your own mom but yeah—” he babbled and babbled until he cut himself off.

"Michael, baby," Mimi said, pulling him into a tight hug. He was such a good hugger, all floppy and eager to love and be loved. "This is so sweet.  _ You’re  _ so sweet."

She touched her bracelet and then kissed his forehead. "You're such an important part of so many lives and you're such a kind and loving young man. Don't underestimate how many lives you've touched and made better."

“No, don’t  _ you  _ underestimate,” Michael protested. “There are so many people I can’t ever really repay—and I know you and everyone will say I don’t need to, but I feel like I have to do something. To show everyone what it means.” He looked Mimi in the eyes and smiled. “This is just a little thing. I want to do more. If you ever need an extra set of hands for Ranchero Night, drop me a line, okay? The drive isn’t that bad.”

“I get it, kid, and thank you. I promise you’ve done enough. You are enough.” Mimi squeezed him again, and looked back through the scrapbook. “Makes me wish I’d gotten a picture of you that first night you came in here.”

“I was pretty close to getting a mugshot taken that night, that count?” Michael grinned, and Mimi laughed. 

“Alright, wise guy. Where else you headed on your well-meaning and totally unnecessary quest to ‘repay’ people whose lives you’ve only enriched by being in them? Or should I tell Maria and Alex that I haven’t seen you?” 

“I’ve already been to see the Valentis and Sanders. I’m going to go up north to see my mom and the others. And then everyone else.”

And finally, of course, his father. But Michael had thought and thought for almost a year of how to repay everyone, and had come up with nothing that even came close to good enough for Arturo. For his father.

He said, “You can tell them you’ve seen me, it’s not a big secret, really. I’m going to catch up with them later anyway.”

Mimi shook her head at him fondly. This boy was unreal. “Okay, drive safe, kiddo. Love you.” 

“Love you too, Mimi.”

—

Next, Michael drove out into the desert, headed for the ruins of Caulfield. The drive was familiar by now, and he rolled the windows down to enjoy the breeze through his curls as he sped down the old road.

Down the stairs, in the long, low room lit by the glow of the pods, Michael made his way over to his mother and sat down cross-legged in front of her, placing his gift in his lap.

“Hi, Mom,” he said softly. “I’m not leaving for a little while, but I figured I’m giving out all the other gifts today, there’s no reason to make you guys wait either.” He paused. “So here.”

He pressed a button on the CD player and the first notes of an old country song started to play. 

“I don’t know what you guys would like. Mr. Sanders—Walt—he said I should include jazz. So there’s lots of that, and some of my favorite songs, some of Isobel and Max’s favorites...even some covers by Alex and the Aliens. I hope you like them. I tested this little guy, and the batteries last like forever. Definitely long enough to keep the music going in between when I can get down here after classes start. I hope you like it.”

He stood and pressed a kiss to the top of her pod. 

“Thanks for everything, Mom.”

—

Arturo was putzing in his bedroom, reading with the radio on, but trying to keep an ear out for Michael to get home. Rosa was spending the night at Maria’s, which bothered him on some level, but he was just going to have to get over his old-fashioned ways about this at some point. (He and Helena were well into their twenties when they got married, and look how that worked out, so age wasn’t everything.) 

He heard Michael’s truck out his window, the recognizable sound of not just a respectably used car but an old car, chugging along. He wished he could send each of his kids off with a brand new Ferrari or whatever it was Jimmy’s boy was driving, but getting a replacement vehicle for the car Liz was taking away to college was going to be difficult enough. At any rate, Michael knew how to fix his own car if anything went wrong, and Albuquerque was not going to be far away. 

Arturo didn’t get up as he heard Michael come in, but he whispered through the door, “How was the drive, Miguel? How is your mother doing?”

Michael stopped in the doorway. He looked tired but happy, content in a way that wasn’t common on Michael’s face. Michael was always in motion, always striving for the next goal—happy, sure, Arturo was satisfied that his children were  _ happy— _ but contentment, rest, was another thing entirely.

Michael said, “She’s doing well, Papi. Same as usual, but, you know, no change is good considering stasis is what the pods are  _ supposed  _ to do.” 

Arturo chuckled and waved a hand. Anything more than fake antennae and flying saucers was outside his immediate interest when it came to aliens, aside from his son. “That’s good, good. I’m looking forward to meeting her someday still, you know. You put in the Ritchie Valens on the tape like I asked?” 

“Yes, yes, the  _ tape  _ is full of all the dad music you recommended,” Michael teased. “I’m...off to bed. Talk to you tomorrow, Papi.”

Michael hurried to his room, then, guilt starting to creep in. Hopefully Arturo wouldn’t talk to the Valentis or Mimi or anyone else he’d given a gift to and think Michael had forgotten him. He just still didn’t know what to  _ do.  _ What could even come  _ close? _

He stood in his doorway for a second, looking at his little room. When he first came here, this was just a place to hide. Before it was even a bedroom, it was just the place he thought he couldn’t be found, where he wouldn’t be hurt. And then people who loved him just because, people who saw a lost child and went above and beyond any possible call of duty, turned it into an  _ actual  _ safe space. 

He dropped his backpack onto the bed. His old backpack, the one from the second group home he’d taken from placement to placement to the suffocating and loud luggage compartment he stowed away in, the one he’d patched and re-patched so many times. Dropping himself down beside it, Michael ran his fingers along the zipper in an old nervous habit.

“Hey, muchacho,” Arturo said softly, on his way down the hall and catching Michel standing staring at his room. He put a hand on his shoulder. “Aren’t you going to be glad to not be living in a closet?” he teased, though he winced internally, wishing he could have given Michael more. 

“Have you  _ seen  _ the size of dorm rooms? I’ll take the closet any day, thanks. Although it doesn’t have a microwave,” Michael joked. Then he said, “Actually, I was just thinking about how I might need a new backpack before I go. This one’s gotten me this far...but I think I’ll leave it here for safekeeping this time around.”

Arturo held up his hands when Michael turned around, playing that this was a stick-up. “The last time I tried to get you a new backpack you did not speak to me for a week. Are you sure you are ready for this next big step in becoming a man?” 

Michael held his hand over his heart and said with funereal solemnity: “I think it might be time.” Sitting on his bed, he fiddled with the strap that got broken one of his first days at school in Roswell, and continued, “You’ll hold onto it for me, right?”

“I don’t know, here I was thinking I was getting my hall closet back…throw all this junk out...” Arturo began, pointing at Michael’s collection of CDs and his bass guitar. Then he chuckled and sat down next to Michael, wrapping an arm around him. “Of course we will keep it. It got you through a lot, and, well, I’m grateful for it. That it got you to us.” 

Michael sniffled under a wave of emotion, and then he just blurted it out. “I, um, you know, I spent the day going around and talking to people, trying to show them how much I appreciated everything they’ve done for me, but you, papi, I just...I don’t even know where to start. I don’t have anything for you. I’m sorry.”

"Says who?" He squeezed Michael, remembering him as a tiny, skinny boy with a bruise on his eye, drowning under a halo of tangled curls, and marveling at what a man he had become. "You are the gift, Miguel. We can never know how our lives might have gone if you had not been in them. You being successful, being smart, being a good man, helping others, this is how you thank a proud father, and you already do. You already have." 

He pressed a kiss to Michael's curls, though he had to pull Michael's head down to reach. He was getting so big. 

Michael sniffled again and, smiling, squeezed his father back. “I couldn’t have done any of it without you.  _ You’re  _ the gift, dad. The best gift a kid like me ever could have gotten. You’re amazing.”

“I think you could have without me, but it is nice to be acknowledged,” Arturo said, chuckling a little wetly. He turned so they were hugging properly, with both arms. “Thank you for making me  _ proud _ , mijo.” 

“We’re going to sit here thanking each other all night, huh,” Michael laugh-cried along with him. 

“Where do you suppose you got it from, eh?” Arturo touched his nose. 

“You know, I thought about, like, doing a bunch of repairs down in the kitchen for you, but then I thought that might just stress you out more, so…”

“I don’t need anything, Michael, I swear,” Arturo laughed, and then wagged a finger. “Now, if I need to bring up this conversation again when you do not call home often enough, or don’t come see me, or don’t look after your sisters enough, then, then we will talk.” 

“Alex and I will come see you every other weekend! For jam sessions with Maria and Rosa, but mostly to mooch off your laundry machines and home cooking. And I’ll call every night just so Rosa can call me a baby for it.”

Arturo laughed loudly, never mind that Liz was asleep in the next room. “Maybe we’ll find a balance. I want you to make friends and have fun in college, too. I am okay with sharing you with the rest of the world, mijo.”

Not for the first time, Michael wondered how Liz could stand going so far away from home and family. He knew and accepted that they were just different people, but Michael, Michael was definitely a homebody, and he was so grateful, suddenly, that all this would just be a day trip away whenever he needed it. Just the thought of packing up his bedroom like he’d need to do in the next few weeks got Michael choked up.

“I’m ready for the rest of the world, I think. Or, at least, ready for Albuquerque,” Michael said.


	25. Chapter 25

Max had finally convinced Liz to let him drive through Big Sur, along the Pacific Highway heading north, because she would not stop trying to take pictures out the window while she was driving. He had to put his foot down, reminding her so much of her dad that Liz melted: 

“He said to look after you! I think not letting you drive recklessly—”

“Okay, okay, Max. You can drive. I’m gonna need to sit in the back seat, though.” 

This worked out for him, because it was easier to sneak glances at her in the rearview mirror. He grinned and rolled down the window, making his hair go almost as crazy as hers (he needed a cut even before they went on this trip). 

“Let me know when you wanna stop. There’s pulloffs all over the place here.” 

“How about the top of that hill? I want to get pictures of the two of us to give to Papi and your parents!”

“Okay!” Max called back, turning up the music as “Umbrella” crackled on the radio. When he started belting out the lyrics, “ _When the sun shine, we shine together, Told you I'll be here forever,_ ” Liz groaned, but he really liked the song, okay? Michael wasn’t the only musical one in the family. And the sentiment was sweet! He was a poet, appreciating beauty. Rihanna got it. 

Liz laughed at him. 

When they pulled off at the top of the hill, they both scrambled out of the car, stretching after their long hours driving and rushing to the railing to look over the ocean crashing below them.

“Wow,” Max breathed.

It had hit them both hard from the first time they saw it, the ocean spreading out blue and gray and green and enormous with sunlight all across the horizon, but it was even _more_ with them sitting still and the ocean moving toward them and back than it was as they sped alongside it. 

They were alone at the pulloff. Cars sped past them, but for now it was just them.

“Hand me the camera, I’ll take more pictures of you,” Max said.

“We’ll set the camera on the hood of the car so we’re both in the shot,” Liz corrected, already setting it down. It was crazy windy out here, enough that she was almost afraid her camera would blow away, but she got it set up and ran to stand next to Max, wrapping her arms around him. 

Max kept his arms chastely at his sides. 

“Max! Hug me!” she demanded. The camera clicked while she was yelling at him. 

Properly chastised, Max wrapped his arm around her, pulling her into his side and grinning more down to her than at the camera.

“I’m so happy to be here with you,” he said.

This time the camera clicked with them looking at each other, mid-conversation. 

“I’m happy you’re here with me, too, Max,” Liz said through gritted teeth. “Look at the camera and smile this time, please!” 

The third time the shutter went off, they managed to both be looking in the right place, arms around each other, and smiling. Liz’s smile looked a little forced. 

“We’ll send this one to my dad,” Liz said, showing Max on the little digital camera preview the picture of them with her arms around Max and scolding him. It was actually kind of funny. 

Max laughed. It was okay if Mr. Ortecho thought he was a dork.

“We’ll get copies for ourselves, too, right?”

“Yes. We’ll get the best ones printed. I’m gonna put them up in my dorm room.” She poked him in the chest, grinning playfully. “And maybe, if you’re good, I’ll invite you over to see them, sometime.” 

“I can’t wait, “ Max said, grinning back, pinning her poking hand against his chest, right over his heart. “Fort Collins and Boulder are just an hour apart—I’ll be there whenever you need me. Or want me. Or, um…” he trailed off.

Liz gave him a hard look. “Maximiliano Evans, look around you. You followed me miles from Roswell and I couldn’t be happier. _I want you_. And I need you to know that, get that, wrap it up tight in your heart and hold onto it, because school is going to be the most important thing to me for a while, and I can’t be worried your love is fragile, or that you don’t trust my love for you without constant reassurance. You still don’t rank above homework.” 

Liz winked, but she was still serious, he could tell.

Max took a deep breath and smiled, a simpler, more relaxed smile. “You’re right. Nothing about my love for you is fragile, Liz Ortecho. I’m going to really dig into my writing, too. We’ll do this side by side.”

…

“Okay, one more,” Alex said, handing the last bag up. “This one’s got the snacks.” 

Michael perched on top of a flat rock in the middle of nowhere just outside Roswell. They used the last of the waning light to pile up sleeping bags, a sleeping mat, a guitar, Michael’s star chart and Alex’s telescope, of course, and drinks and snacks for their sleepover under the stars. It wasn’t the same rock they climbed as kids when Alex tried to run away, but it was nearby, and bigger, and a little flatter. 

“This is pretty cushy compared to my dad’s survival weekends,” Alex chuckled, as Michael helped him up on top of the flat rock. “I’ve got a human-sized heater with me. And, like, Pringles. Luxury.” 

“My days of providing for you with squashed granola bars are behind us,” Michael mourned, tugging Alex directly into his side and wrapping the blanket around them both. Turning his head so the chilly tip of his nose pressed against Alex’s warm neck, he said, “did I seem too warm for you back then? Before you knew what I was? I used to worry about that, but not enough to stop hugging you.”

Alex grinned wryly. “Maybe not immediately. I think I noticed the rain smell, first. And then the heat. But only because I had to know everything about you. Obsessed. Creepy, if you hadn’t liked me back.” 

“But I did.” Michael gave him a sappy smile. “I liked you back first, I’m standing by that.”

His heart fluttered at the idea they might be bickering about this when they were old and gray and had grandkids. God, he wanted that, even more than he wanted to get started at UNM, even more than he wanted scholarships or money for his dad or to bury himself in science up to his ears. Alex was _it_ for him.

“Not true! I had _very_ strong feelings about you immediately. ...Never mind that they were frustration!” 

Alex shoved him lightly and lit the lantern, giving them enough light to see by but not block out the stars. “Now...where did you hide those cookies?” 

“These ones?’ Michael said innocently, dangling the bag in front of Alex then pulling it away when he reached for it. Alex dove after them, ending up sprawled across Michael's chest. “I thought we could play a game. See who could find the most constellations.”

"Are you holding the cookies hostage?” Alex sighed. “You know we're going to have to work together. I've got the telescope and you've got the chart. It's silly to split our resources. _And_ I'm a terrible loser."

Michael threw his leg over the backs of Alex’s knees to keep him pinned in place and snuggled in, surrendering the cookies when Alex grabbed for them again. “I’m more than ready to share my resources with you,” he said dreamily.

"You say that now, but we haven't learned yet if you're a lost prince with thousands of planets under your dominion. You'd forget all about me.”

Michael’s arm tightened around Alex, and he planted a firm kiss on the side of Alex’s head. “Never,” he swore. “Never.”

Alex stole his lips back in a languid kiss. Then said, abruptly, "Maybe we should unroll the sleeping bags before we get too cozy."

Giggling and flushed, they set up camp. Alex definitely opened the cookies midway, and when they ended up back in the same position, he fed a few to Michael, in between crumby kisses. 

"You know, if you hold still like this," Alex said, resting above Michael on one elbow, "I can see the stars reflected in your eyes. I don't even need to look up."

Michael sucked in a breath, heart fluttering. It’s not like he could take his eyes off Alex anyway.

“Are we ready? For UNM?” He asked softly.

“I lay on the poetry and that’s what you come back with?” Alex teased, raising an eyebrow. But when Michael went to protest, he kissed him. “Just teasing. We talk past each other when we try to speak the other’s love language. Yes, we’re ready. Packed and ready to live in the same building for a semester until we convince the RAs to let us share a room. Maybe swap earlier if we can swing it. Ready to be on our own, together, with our family close by. I’m gonna need a job, but Graham is a good reference, and so’s Mimi, and Arturo. And our sisters are gonna be fine here, and elsewhere. I’m actually gonna miss Kyle, which is…awesome.” 

Alex smiled, kissed the edge of Michael’s mouth. “So, yes, we’re ready. Now, back to the stars in your eyes…” 

“You’re the one who makes them shine,” Michael murmured back, bringing them together in a kiss.

…

“Look at that, our dorm rooms are just far enough apart to make you work for it,” Isobel said, setting a box down on her bed. 

“Yeah, every day I see my girlfriend is gonna be leg day—” Kyle began, but one look at his dad’s stern face of distaste had him grimacing: “I _mean_ because she’s on the fourth floor, dad!” 

Ann Evans came in behind them to find Jim blushing fiercely, but she ignored it, as she did with most uncomfortable discussions. “Oh, see, this is a nice setup! They must have renovated recently. You’re sure you’ll be happy with a roommate? They do have singles available, sweetie, I checked—” 

“Mom! I’ll be fine. Looking forward to the _full_ college experience,” Isobel said, flipping her hair the way she always did when she was putting on airs. Then she turned to Kyle and fluttered her eyelashes. “If I run into problems, Kyle will let me stay with him, right?”

Kyle’s eyes darted frantically to her mother. “U-uh...I think there are rules about…”

"Just kidding, don't have a cow," Isobel said, already arranging the boxes that her party had brought up like she was orchestrating a large move, kitchen boxes in the kitchen, book boxes in the den, etc., even though the dorm was small. After one more trip up the four flights of stairs, everything was as it should be. She unpacked her one box of essentials, and then said, "Okay, I'll deal with the rest later. Let's go see the sights!"

"I don't know, all this humidity," Ann said, and Jim agreed. 

"You kids aren't hungry yet?" Jim tried. "My treat."

Kyle shrugged. “I could eat. That’s a kind of sightseeing,” he told Isobel, “right? You’ve probably already researched good restaurants to try, haven’t you?”

“We did, and it’s _my_ treat,” Anne said, putting her arm around Isobel. She smirked. “Well, Dave’s treat, anyway.” 

Isobel shot Kyle a faintly strained look, but she only had to deal with her mother’s henning for another 24 hours before she’d be on her own, so she could survive this. 

They headed out the door and down the stairs, the kids letting their parents go ahead of them so they could have a little privacy. Ann was actually _laughing_ at Jim’s dad jokes! Kyle took Isobel’s hand and squeezed it.

“Just a couple more hours and then we can get rid of them,” he said. “How’re you holding up?”

"I'm skipping leg day this week. Possibly as long as I live on the fourth floor. If I renege on our pact to not gain the freshman 15 will you still love me?" she replied, her fist under her chin as she tried to be cute. She could get any guy she wanted, of course, if Kyle ended up like his dad, but she _wanted him_. 

Kyle laughed. “Always. I do my best thinking when every muscle of my physical body hates me...but I won’t hold it against you if you have alternate study methods.”

“We’ll see. I’m always too busy watching _you_ when we work out, so that won’t help my grades,” she said with a wink. “And...you know, we can explore other ways of making you sore…” 

Ahead of them, Ann and Jim were still fighting over who was going to buy dinner, but Isobel and Kyle blushed and grinned at each other. She squeezed his hand, feeling like she was finally (almost) breathing free air. 

But the first breath of fresh air outside the dorms and air conditioning had her gagging. “Oh, this humidity is honestly miserable.” 

Ann, fanning herself, nodded in agreement. “ _This_ is why your father and I settled in the desert, dear. Poor Kyle, you’re looking awfully flushed, let’s get back into AC, shall we?”

Kyle stammered out, “Yes ma’am,” trying desperately not to think about what Isobel just said.

They settled on some farm-to-table foodie trap that Isobel had seen online, after which Jim’s arguments about paying petered out somewhat. 

“Now you’re gonna study hard, right?” Jim said to both of them. 

“And join some clubs. The trick is finding a balance,” Ann added. “You’re here for school, but it’s also a wonderful time of exploration.” 

“I’m definitely going to get involved in intramural sports,” Kyle said solemnly, like he was in an interview. Jim hid behind his menu so his son wouldn’t see him laugh.

“There’s sororities and fraternities to meet people, too. That’s how I met your father…” 

“I don’t need to meet other guys,” Isobel huffed. Knowing just what to say to make the adults change the conversation, she said, “I think we’re going to join the LGBT Club so we can be better allies to our friends, and _really_ expand our horizons!” 

“Well. Don’t forget about your studies.” 

…

“Don’t come up yet!” Rosa said, as she heard the door open. “Ugh, Papi was supposed to stall you. Close your eyes!” 

Maria obediently closed her eyes so Rosa could a. get a good look at her in her tiny top and long flowing skirt, sporting her brand new shoulder-length haircut that Rosa had only just forgiven her for, and b. finish pinning up the last of the fairy lights and plugging them in. Further back by the sign, out of view from the street, she had swept the roof of pigeon crap and cigarette butts, and set a table and two chairs out. Champagne and dinner (still packed up to stay warm) waited. After she lit the candles on the center of the table, Rosa turned around. “Okay, you can look.” 

Her eyes dropped open, and her mouth dropped open in a gasp at the same time. The candlelight danced in her dark eyes, and Rosa’s heart danced with it.

“Oh, _Rosa._ You didn’t have to do this!” She breathed, rushing to the side of the table to hug her girlfriend tightly.

“Of course I did, you see the look on your face?” Rosa replied, wrapping her arms around Maria’s tiny, bare waist and kissing her. “I know we don’t get a big party with the whole gang, but I wanted to make sure you still know how special you are.” 

Maria gave Rosa a soft look and wound her arms around her neck. “Thank you. I...have been missing everyone today. Everyone’s texted or called—Michael and Alex called me at midnight and said they’d be here next weekend with gifts, but...this is nice. Really, thank you.”

“At midnight? Must be nice to not have to get up early for work,” Rosa said, pleased with the new teasing fodder. She escorted Maria to her seat and even pushed it in for her, and then got to work popping the champagne, which was a struggle she was not quite butch enough for. “What else did you get? Anything fun from your mom?” 

“Oh, you know her, I got a ton of crazy stuff. Including a candle-making set—we’ll have to try it out sometime. Ooh, and look at this!” She pulled her necklace out of her cleavage, the Pisces constellation on the end of it twinkling. “It’s you,” she teased.

“Who got you that? I love it!” Rosa said, touching the necklace. 

“Mom. Of course, the big thing was her sitting me down to talk about the money Grandma Patty left. Apparently she and my mom worked it out before she passed that half the inheritance would be left for me when I turned 18. I kind of knew already, but, um, it’s kind of more than I expected…”

“Whoa! We going to Vegas?” Rosa laughed, just as the champagne popped, startling them both. She poured glasses for them. “I’ll drink to that.” 

Maria clinked their glasses together, a little smile on her face. After their toast, as Rosa started to set out the food, Maria ran her finger almost absentmindedly along the lipstick on the rim of Rosa’s glass. She said, “Sure, we _could_ go to Vegas. But I thought we might talk about...other ways to spend it.”

Rosa plated their food—burgers from the Crashdown, what else?—and smiled up at Maria. “Like what? How much is it?” 

When Maria didn’t answer right away, Rosa thought it was significantly more than the two or three grand she assumed...

“Um, a lot. Like...down payment money. Business money...or house money, if we wanted it to be. That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.”

“House money,” Rosa repeated, heart catching on the edge of her ribs. “Business money? And you’re telling me...because...you want my advice? Y-you’re the one with all the business sense.” 

“That’s not entirely true. You’ve been watching and helping your dad run the diner for your whole life, and now you’re out here selling your own art and not doing too bad a job at it. Um, and we won’t like be _set_ with this, there are still things to consider, um, but really I just wanted to…” Maria trailed off, then said, “I want us to decide what to do with the money together. Because it’s decisions about the future, and I want you to be part of that future.”

Rosa reached across the table and snatched up Maria's hand, as though worried she'd rescind the offer or take back her hand. She smiled and moved her thumb over Maria's knuckles, and didn't say anything, not until she had thought about it. 

"I'd say we should move in together, but we'd save money staying with our parents for another year or so," Rosa finally managed. "What were you thinking?"

Maria grinned. “We’re on the same page,” she said, lifting their joined hands to kiss the backs of her knuckles. “I’m going to try and invest some of the money. See if I can grow it, you know? But I think we should take a serious look at pooling our finances. Start planning now.”

“Yeah, okay, yeah, I can contribute,” Rosa agreed. She would probably agree to anything right now, but this also made sense, made her feel good about their future. “You got a plan in mind, or just saving up for an opportunity? Like, what are we aiming for, here?” 

“I’m always _open_ to an opportunity, but...I really want to buy the Pony someday,” she said in a rush. “A bar is one of the best business prospects you can make in this dumb town, but I don’t want to sell out like friggin’ Saturn’s Rings. And the current owners are getting up there, and I’ve got so many memories in that place, you know? When they’re ready to retire, I don’t want to see it sold to someone who doesn’t know what they’ve got. I want to make it _better_. And my mom’s put in enough hours there—she deserves it, damn it.”

Rosa’s eyes went wide, envisioning it. “Yeah, for sure. Hey, if you’re in charge of the Pony, I could do wine and painting nights for all the country club ladies. It’s not like I don’t have experience in the service industry, and...I guess my dad’s gonna give me the Crashdown _if_ he ever retires. I don’t know if he’d sell it.”

As Maria began to eat, Rosa hummed appreciatively. “Small business owners, huh? Not...blowing it all on an extravagant wedding?” 

Maria giggled. “How do you know I’m not putting you on a plane to Vermont tomorrow? Maybe this is all a ruse.” She wiggled her fingers dramatically.

" _That's_ your dream wedding?" Rosa scoffed lightly. "We’re gonna have to arm wrestle for who's the bride and gets to make all these decisions. Anyway, it's only legal for our kind in, like, California and Massachusetts, so that limits our options."

“Didn’t I just say Vermont? I’ve done my research, Ortecho,” Maria teased. “And we’ll both be brides, of course. Unless we decide otherwise. But I can already imagine the kind of dress you’d wear. It wouldn’t be all white—it would have red—um,” she cut herself off, blushing. “But maybe we’re getting ahead of ourselves.”

Rosa grinned, eyebrows wagging. “Red underwear, huh?” 

They laughed, and Rosa took Maria’s hand, and kissed her palm. “You wanna guess what color my underwear is before I show you later?” 

Maria giggled helplessly. “I was thinking, like, a red sash or red trimming or something, _Rosa,_ O-M-G. I’m embarrassed that I’ve put so much _thought_ into this already, not because of your underwear, although I am _now,_ thanks.”

Rosa laughed. "Well, even if we have to elope all fast because they elect another fascist instead of Obama, it's fun to plan for the rest of our lives together. Now drink your champagne and eat. I got a whole setup downstairs, too."

Rosa winked. 

“Is your dad home?” Maria asked, digging in. Just had to get that question out of the way before her mind started speculating what the downstairs setup might be.

“I bought him a box of cigars, set him up a barajas night with Jim and Manny, and gave him explicit instructions _not_ to come home before 11,” Rosa laughed. “And to call if he’s too drunk to drive. So we’ve got the place to ourselves until then.” 

“You really thought of everything,” Maria said, and she leaned across the table to kiss her.

…

“Arturo, have you sat down once tonight?” Michelle scolded, trying to edge Arturo away from his serving trays. “I’ve got this while you eat.” 

“Now, I know _you_ have been on your feet all day, today, too, Sheriff,” Arturo said, not giving ground. 

“Look, I’ve eaten, so how about _both_ of you sit down,” Jim said, pushing them both out of the way and making a big show of wiping his mouth to demonstrate, though he also had salsa down the front of his shirt. 

It was Ranchero Night. 

Arturo was catering, and Jim and Michelle were helping out while Mimi tended bar. Her new favorite customer sat across from her, making her laugh. 

“I’m not letting someone who makes _bathtub gin_ tell me how to mix a drink, Walt!” Mimi cackled. 

“Just ‘cause I’m mostly successful at the science doesn’t mean I don’t know the art as well,” Sanders said in a tone that might pass for snooty if he weren’t too gruff to make that possible, but Mimi just laughed harder, and that seemed to be his aim. 

“It just doesn’t taste as good without the little umbrella!” Mimi laughed, and set the glass in front of him. “You’ll drink it!” 

Michelle led Arturo to a nearby empty table, their own plates full.

“It’s a good turnout tonight,” she said.

“Yes, for the volunteers as well. I’ve never seen so many.”

“Ooh, are you guilt tripping me, Arturo?” Michelle teased. “Just because this is my first Ranchero Night in years…” 

“Never, Michelle. You do enough for this town. Without you, things could be…” Arturo shook his head, not wanting to wade into the details of what a hawkish sheriff could do to a town like Roswell. “Despite our differences, I admire all you do to help people,” he said, leaving it at that.

“Arturo,” Michelle sighed, patting his arm, before digging into her own plate of enchiladas. She moaned appreciatively. “You know, it’s a crime that your Mexican food is off-menu. I could arrest you, for this green chile sauce alone. You _sure_ it’s vegetarian?” 

“I never lie, Sheriff, particularly about food,” Arturo chuckled.

They ate in companionable silence for a while, until they both spied the buffet, where Jim had been surrounded by several children of volunteers and was slipping them cookies from the dessert trays that hadn’t been laid out yet.

"It's a wonder Kyle isn't more spoiled. Look at what a softie he is," Michelle grumbled. How had Jim ever been in law enforcement, let alone worked, however briefly, at an alien concentration camp? "You did such a good job with your kids. Where's Rosa, tonight, by the way?" 

“No, it is not a competition! Kyle has had his struggles, but he’s a good kid,” Arturo assured. “Rosa and Maria are on a weekend trip to the beach. They had it planned before they knew about tonight, or they would be here. I told them not to worry and to enjoy themselves; us old people can still put on quite the event without them!”

"That's true," Michelle said, even though she had her own suspicions about what the girls would be up to besides "the beach." A little voice inside her, however, responded in the voice of Rosa Ortecho, _Don't be such a narc, Michelle,_ and she let the suspicion go. "Anyway, speak for yourself. I'm celebrating my 39th birthday again this year."

Mimi laughed a little too loudly, then, though whether at that or something else Walt said was unclear. 

Chuckling, Arturo toasted Michelle, then turned toward the bar. “Mimi, you should also eat!” Arturo called over to her. “Can I get you a plate?”

Walt turned his single eye on Arturo, which meant he had to turn, slowly, in his stool. “You think I’d let her go hungry?” 

“No, no, Mr. Sanders,” Arturo said, and then he winked. “Only that feeding people is my favorite pastime. I can get a plate for you as well, no need to get up.”

“I got it, kid,” Walt said. (Arturo hadn’t been called ‘kid’ in a long time. It felt fantastic, actually.) “I’m gettin’ up, anyway.” 

Walt growled something at the gaggle of kids who were after the cookies, but they only hung around him instead, asking him questions to which he replied with more and more outlandish answers until they were all cackling. Arturo smiled at the gentle soul that was under that gruff exterior, at how children were somehow interested in and scared of and tickled to death by Walt Sanders all at the same time. 

When he finally returned with two new plates of food, Michelle said, “Sorry we pulled you away from your fans.” 

“Kids these days. No respect,” Sanders groused, as he levered himself back into his chair, smiling.

“Kids these days,” Mimi agreed sagely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THE END
> 
> Thanks for reading, folks! We hope you've enjoyed this series. We're marking it "Complete" for now, though we're planning to go into "Epilogue Mode," which just means you can imagine their well-adjusted futures from here, and we'll write bits of their futures when fancy strikes us (so it still would make sense to subscribe to the series). 
> 
> Thank you so much to all our kind readers and commenters! 
> 
> And I (Hal) would also like to say how much of a joy writing this series has been, how it got me through the earliest days of the pandemic and lots of days since, and how proud I am to present it in it’s completed state. Thanks again, everyone!
> 
> And since I (Mae) have your attention, here's a shameless promotion of RNM Comment Bingo: https://rnmbingo.tumblr.com/

**Author's Note:**

> "Only Drunks and Children Tell the Truth" is of course an aphorism, keeping with our title theme, but it's also the title of a great [play](https://talonbooks.com/books/only-drunks-and-children-tell-the-truth) about an Indigenous woman adopted by a White family as a child, which is sort of relevant to some of our themes.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Don't Mess with the Hat](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26656750) by [MayGlenn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MayGlenn/pseuds/MayGlenn)
  * [The Interview](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27751474) by [MayGlenn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MayGlenn/pseuds/MayGlenn)




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